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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27790462">A Little Push</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebeus/pseuds/Phoebeus'>Phoebeus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5, Persona 5 Royal, Persona Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Akechi Goro Lives, Akechi deserves to live and deal with a hundred awkward scenarios, Akira is a thousand spazzes under a veneer of cool and Akechi can't even, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Other ships might be added but Akira &amp; Akechi are the main bit, POV Akechi Goro, POV Kurusu Akira, What-If, You know- canon being canon, at least some royal details, engine room au, if this doesn't devolve into daily life shenanigans and humor vs angst then I'll be shocked, no beta we die like thieves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:29:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>44,147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27790462</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebeus/pseuds/Phoebeus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“‘The watertight bulkhead door has closed.’” </p><p>
  <em>Go. </em>
</p><p>“‘All personnel within the partition wall–’” </p><p>
  <em>Go! Do not lose the threads of a blood oath you have just formed! </em>
</p><p>“‘Evacuate–’”</p><p>
  <b><em>Move, or you will lose him!</em> </b>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>359</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“‘The watertight bulkhead door has closed.’”</p><p>
  <em> Go. </em>
</p><p>“‘All personnel within the partition wall–’” </p><p>
  <em> Go! Do not lose the threads of a blood oath you have just formed! </em>
</p><p>“‘Evacuate–’” </p><p>
  <b> <em>Move, or you will lose him!</em> </b>
</p><p>He tore his eyes off of the blinking red lights, turned around, and ran.</p><p>“Joker?!”</p><p>“H-hey, what–”</p><p>
  <em> “You–” </em>
</p><p>Something hit his foot and he tripped, but he caught himself before the fall. The wall he had not even processed rising sprang up behind his back, hit the ceiling with a crash of metal against metal, and then there was the slamming of fists, his friends screaming on the other side.</p><p>Joker did not look back. <em> That thing </em> was in front of him, clutching its gut but glaring fire at him. Shadow dogs and soldiers surrounded them, and just beside him– </p><p> “You <em>idiot.” </em> Akechi was clutching his side as well, but he still had his gun up, still had it trained on his cognitive double even as his hand and voice shook. “What are you trying to prove?”</p><p>“That I have great reflexes,” Joker said, voice flat as he raised his own gun and his mind grappled for facts amid the insanity. He was cut off from his friends, he had heard that voice again, that <em> girl </em> again, if not for her he wouldn’t have made it in time, Akechi had intended to <em> cut himself off from–  </em></p><p>“You fool!!” the double seethed, its eyes bulging and mouth opening too wide with each word. “You’re just going to die <em> with him </em> now, <em> do you see? </em> If that worthless puppet won’t do it himself, then I’ll <em> take you both–” </em> The thing turned his gun on Akechi again.</p><p>Joker moved first. By some miracle, he still had a Down Shot left.</p><p>
  <em> “Joker?!” </em>
</p><p>“Joker!! Akechi-kun! What is happening?!”</p><p>“We’re fine!” Joker cried, fighting for breath as he rose to his feet after the complex series of jumps. Skull let out another curse and a sharp, “Can’t you get this shit open, Oracle?!” followed, but Joker kept his focus on the enemy. That shot couldn’t destroy the cognition, but the false Akechi was down on the floor, the dogs and soldiers were transforming, bursting into four Cerberus and four Cu Chulainn, and <em> there was time. </em> Joker took it and switched masks. “Kushinada!” The green robed spirit burst to life and Joker cast Mediarama on himself and Akechi, healing what damage he could. It wasn’t enough, <em> nothing </em> could be enough with such numbers, but he had taught the spirit Samarecarm, if it came to that. If <em> he </em> could just stay up, if Akechi could somehow use his turn to bring down all of the shadows in one go–</p><p>“What are you doing?” Joker chanced a glance and saw Akechi healed, but hesitating. Akechi kept his eyes on the enemies, kept his gun up, but his face was twisted with confusion and uncertainty and <em> rage. </em> He was reeling. “You should have just– just stayed out of it, left me to–”</p><p>“We can argue about it later,” Joker interrupted, calm and firm and pressing back every impulse to turn on the man and shake him for all he was worth. Joker could have <em> so easily </em> missed the opening, been left standing on the wrong side of that wall beside his friends, screaming in vain as Akechi– and <em> he </em> had the nerve to be angry <em> with him– </em> “We need to take them out.”</p><p>Akechi scoffed, voicing a fraction of the irritation Joker felt and dismissed as easily as breathing. </p><p>“You think– <em> It’s going to be that easy?” </em></p><p>Joker’s breath caught.</p><p>“You think… you can just walk away… after this?” the false Akechi breathed, finally standing straight, the blood flowing freely from its chest wound, unacknowledged as he stared wide, wide, <em> wide-eyed </em> at them both. “I will… take you down… I will tear you to shreds… If you are of no use to the captain, then you should just <b> <em>die!!!”</em> </b> </p><p>‘Akechi’s’ face burst and Joker tasted bile behind his teeth at the sight, at the horror of that image, but even that was a pale shadow to the shock of the persona that burst out of the cognition’s skin, great and blue and ugly, spines and tentacles and breasts and long bones all bursting out from an unfathomable demon of a creature.</p><p>Satan.</p><p><em> “Well,” </em> Joker said, letting his nerves slide out on that one casual word as he assessed the thing in front of him. It was strong, <em> too strong, </em> and better yet had no weaknesses. He had never fused this one, but that was what his insight told him, an insight that he had learned from <em> Akechi. </em> But he couldn’t think about that, about the irony of that gift, or the danger before him. All he could think was, <em> ‘This </em> is how Shido sees Akechi’. </p><p>That treasure was looking sweeter by the second.</p><p>The thing gave out a great, thundering cry, and Joker’s muscles tensed again as he recognized the glow of Concentration. In response he reached inside of himself and, ignoring the base urge to heal, to protect, he switched to Ariadne. He needed to end the fight <em> fast, </em> so he took the risk and cast Revolution, increasing criticals for the whole field.</p><p>He heard a scoff and looked to the side, to Akechi, saw his expression twist as he looked down at his own clawed hands and watched the spell affect him. <em> “You…” </em></p><p>Joker held his breath, waiting. There was no time to ask what he would do. They had only seconds. He could only watch, and ignore his friends’ muffled cries, wait and see–</p><p>Akechi spit a breath, then called out. <em> “Loki!” </em> The twisted striped persona appeared above his head, and with a room darkening wave of Megidolaon, the Cerberus and Cu Chulainns were gone. They never even got out an attack. </p><p>All Akechi needed was one chance.</p><p>Joker smirked.</p><p>
  <b> <em>“Black Viper!!”</em> </b>
</p><p>He looked to Satan– and moved <em> just </em> in time as an attack nearly hit him square in the face. He could feel it, how close he came to taking a colossal hit, one that would have downed him instantly, but he had dodged just in time. </p><p>
  <em> Thanks, Ariadne. </em>
</p><p>The beast let out an enraged cry as Joker refound his footing and instantly threw out a Miracle Punch. The attack landed right on, but the hoped for critical never came. Satan barely flinched. At least, not until Akechi followed up with a roaring <em> Brave Blade </em> that had the monster screaming, but again, <em> not down! </em></p><p>And for all of their efforts, they got an Ice Age in the face.</p><p>“F– <em> Joker!” </em> Akechi’s cry prompted calls from Joker’s hidden friends again, all alarmed as they sensed via the black masked persona user what had happened. Akechi had apparently managed to dodge, but not Joker. He wasn’t on the ground, but he was staggering, gritting his teeth against the urge to switch back to Kushinada and heal. He couldn’t risk it. Even with the wave of shadows gone, Satan could kill them in a heartbeat, healed or no. The only way to live was to take him down <em> fast! </em></p><p>And so he used another Miracle Punch, and finally breathed when Satan fell.</p><p>
  <em> Got him! </em>
</p><p>“All out attack!” he cried, moving without a second thought into the familiar routine. It was only when he was slicing through the screaming demon that he realized what he had ordered, and more so, that Akechi had followed. He was right there, flying at his heels, just as he had a dozen times in Momentos and Sae’s palace. </p><p>Amid the rush, their eyes locked, just for a moment. The same dark red eye Joker knew from before peered back at him, wild and troubled, but <em> sharp, </em> just as always. </p><p>When Joker landed back in his spot, there was a calm in his bones he hadn’t felt in weeks.</p><p>Akechi had barely touched the ground before he threw out another Brave Blade, and Satan gave a cry hotter than all the rest before smacking them with <em> another </em> Ice Age. Again, Joker flinched, his alarm returning and multiplying as pain shot through his body and he sensed it. He couldn’t push much farther, he <em> had to heal, or– </em></p><p>He glanced to the side, and froze. Except for him it was a metaphor, while <em> Akechi </em> was truly frozen, caught in place by a layer of ice as he fought to even scream, his eyes wide and burning with desperate rage. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything. Joker had to <em> do something, </em> and there was no time, he had to– </p><p>“Kushinada!” But, he didn’t need time. He didn’t no need to think. Even if he could, he would still make the same move, switching his persona to cast Amrita Shower and free Akechi. </p><p>The other teen nearly fell over with the breaking of the ice, gasping for air. Akechi was free, but he was staggering. His health, too– <em> “You–” </em> he breathed, staring at Joker, eyes still wide, wild, <em> baffled, </em> but there was something else. A true wonder behind the gaze, <em> finally </em> cracking through the rush of their predicament. </p><p>Joker met that look head on, and though he sensed the death breathing right at his neck, he felt relief.</p><p>“Zorro!” </p><p>Light burst across Joker’s body, his pain fading and mind unfogging, and his relief soared and shifted to understanding as he whirled around to see– </p><p><em> “Eat this!” </em> Skull rushed right by him, Seiten Taisei bursting forth with a Megaton Raid as the rest of Joker’s friends fell in formation around him, the wall Joker had never heard fall nowhere to be seen, once more hidden in the floor.</p><p>Then he looked back to Akechi, confirming at a glance that he had been healed by Mona, too. But, the black-garbed man remained bent over, shock clear on his face as he stared at the fight happening in front of him. At the rescue he hadn’t expected.</p><p>Joker smirked, and turned back to his friends. “Queen, Noir, you’re up.” </p><p>The two girls smiled as one and rushed forward, taking Skull’s place and proceeding to gang up on the demon just as it seemed to recover, smacking it and hitting it with a well-practiced combo attack that ended in a show finisher double kick. With that, the demon let out one final scream, everything he had been, all the danger and pain and hurtful truths he had represented disappearing in a puff of smoke, just like all the other shadows they had ever faced.</p><p>And then it was over, and all that remained was them, Akechi, and the silence. </p><p>That is, until Mona smacked Joker in the leg. “What were you thinking, jumping in without us?!” he snapped, glaring as Joker looked down at him, rubbing his sore shin with his other heel. “You think you could face that thing on your own?!” </p><p>“I just reacted.” Joker shrugged, and Mona sputtered at him. There was certainly more to it than that, and Joker would have done the same with a thousand minutes to consider it, <em> but </em> he didn’t need to say that.</p><p>“You’re just lucky Oracle figured out how to override the broken gate controls,” Panther admonished, the named navigator adjusting her goggles before glancing back at the still blinking control panel, the wires sticking out of it speaking plainly of their efforts.</p><p>“It wasn’t hard, really. I just worried I wouldn’t manage it in time.”</p><p>“It really <em> was </em> scary hearing all of that from this side,” Noir commented, and Joker shot her a sincere if unashamed smile. Then he turned to look, and the others must have as well, for they all fell quiet again as Joker considered the man standing just a bit apart from them. </p><p>Akechi was clutching his arm, staring at the same rewired controls, the broken half of his helmet hidden from the thieves’ view. But there was still enough of his face visible through the cracks for Joker to read the exhaustion there, the silent <em> ‘screw it’ </em> in his expression, the want to fold his hand and bail from the card table before he lost anything else. How that impulse might manifest, Joker wasn’t certain, but he stepped forward before any of them could find out. </p><p>Akechi turned, eyed him as Joker said, “We still need to secure the route to the treasure,” but he might as well have been speaking Greek for all Akechi seemed to understand. He stared at Joker like he could not fathom <em> why </em> that could possibly matter.</p><p>“You never gave us an answer.” Queen stepped up into Joker’s periphery, a searching, expectant look on her face. “Before your cognitive double attacked you. Are you willing to join us?”</p><p>Joker’s expression relaxed as he listened to her ask, realized she was <em> willing </em> to ask, but Akechi just looked more baffled by the second. “I do not understand,” he breathed. “I do not understand… <em> any </em> of you. You should hate me, I will not believe for a <em> second </em> that <em> all of you </em> would–” </p><p>“Oh, we hate you!” Oracle moved up to Joker’s other side. Her expression was incomprehensible behind her goggles, but her voice was light. “Or at least, I do. But, I can sympathize with you, too, especially after <em> that. </em> I’m willing to focus my ire on Shido for the moment, given he started all of this, and you have just as much a right to cream the guy as we do.”</p><p>“The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as they say,” Fox commented, and the grimace that had struck Akechi’s face at Oracle’s words grew sharper. “You cannot deny that our purposes are perfectly aligned.”</p><p>“And, <em> um, </em> if I am honest,” Noir added, “There <em> are </em> things I would love to say to you.”</p><p>Joker saw Akechi’s gaze shift, and followed it, staring with him. He was fairly sure they were <em> all </em> looking at Noir’s ax, dangling innocently from her hand.</p><p>“But, in truth, none of it would change anything,” she went on, seemingly oblivious to where their attention had strayed. “My father will still be dead. Oracle’s mother, too, and… and I don’t think hurting you will make me feel better.” Joker looked back to see Akechi’s expression twisted, crumbling apart into something lost as he kept staring and Noir rambled on. “So… so, I would like the chance to find out! Find out what will <em> really </em> make things right. If there is anything. I would like the chance to try… and, helping us stop Shido, it seems like the perfect first step. For all of us.”</p><p>Noir sounded uncertain of her words in the end, uncertain if she had expressed herself properly, but no one followed her. The room grew quiet again, and slowly, Akechi’s attention shifted back to Joker. He questioned <em> him </em> without speaking a word.</p><p>Joker returned the look, his pulse thudding, hands shaking in his pockets. But no one could see that. “What do you want to do, Crow?” <em> Crow. </em> His code name. The name of a Phantom Thief. Joker said it intentionally, and the new twist in Akechi’s expression said he understood. </p><p>Akechi turned away, considered the lights blinking red over their heads, and Joker couldn’t guess what he was thinking. But whatever it was, it took only a heartbeat, then he turned back, considered them all one last time… and breathed, “You are probably going to regret this.” </p><p>His words were gruff, his expression more resigned than resolved, but the effect was instant. Everyone relaxed, and though Joker could not sense happiness from his team, there was satisfaction, even approval on a few faces. </p><p>“Welcome back, Crow,” said Mona, but Panther was quick to shake her head and deny him.</p><p><em> “Uh-uh. </em> Don’t you think it’s more like ‘Welcome aboard’?” she asked, a smile on her face.</p><p>“Yeah!” Skull agreed. “It’ll be good fighting together <em> properly </em> this time around, without all the scheming and backstabbing and having to pretend I don’t want to deck you the whole time!”</p><p>The exhaustion finally cracked on Crow’s face as he shot the blond an unamused look, and it lingered as Queen smoothly added, “It <em> will </em> certainly be much nicer working with you than against you.”</p><p>“I never said I was joining your team.” Crow shifted his glare to Queen, the fire slowly returning to his eyes as he spoke. “I have no interest in what you do. I just want to stop Shido.”</p><p>“Things are rather up in the air for all of us, as far as ‘after’ is concerned,” Fox said, his drifting tones a soft counter to the hard looks Crow gave them. “However, whatever may follow, we are at least comrades for the moment, yes? Just as we were in the casino.” </p><p>Crow seemed displeased by the reminder, but he didn’t directly acknowledge the words, or look at Fox. He looked at <em> Joker, </em> searching his face once more for some sort of confirmation, or truth.</p><p>Joker returned the regard, as blank as ever… then turned away, passing through the group and walking on with a slow, relaxed stride. “Crow, Panther, Skull, you’re with me. Everyone else, watch our backs and run support. We’re getting that treasure.”</p><p>“Hell yeah!” Skull cried, and the others all made various comments, a hum of pleasure and excitement and relief in all of their voices. But Joker did not listen to the words, or linger to see if anything else was said. He moved forward, not looking back and not waiting. Eventually a small stampede of footsteps announced the group catching up with him, and he sensed three of them breaking away, rushing up to follow right at his heels.</p><p><em> Three, </em> the three teammates he had asked for.</p><p>And sensing them there, knowing who they were, Joker allowed himself a smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is what happens when I finally sit down and play through Royal (having finished P5 and knowing much of the Royal spoilers already). I am deeply excited to take my first foray into writing for this fandom, and I have no idea how far I may take this. If you have any thoughts on the matter, or would like to see more, please let me know! Updates will come as the whim leads me (i.e. likely as my replay takes me closer to this section of the game, I'm currently at Sae's palace!). But now that I have dipped my toe in, I am loving writing these characters, I hope to continue to do so.</p><p>Thank you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> “Gyahhh, </em> why didn’t we take a taxi?”</p><p>“Really?” Niijima asked, trailing after Sakamoto and watching him fall face first into the first booth in LeBlanc as she leaned against the closest booth chair, the others all stumbling in after them. “You were willing to pay for at least three cabs to get us back here?”</p><p>
  <em> “Mgyfuhhhhhhh–” </em>
</p><p>“What time is it anyways?” Takamaki asked, squinting at her phone as if the light hurt her eyes. “It’s just– <em> oh man, </em> if we don’t hop back on the trains like <em> now, </em> we’ll miss the last one.”</p><p>“Hopefully that won’t be a– a problem,” Niijima tried to assure, but the yawn she stifled mid-word undermined any confidence she might have insured. “This shouldn’t take long, should it?”</p><p>No one answered. No one seemed to be listening. Sakura Futaba had gone straight to the farthest booth chair and planted her face in the counter, Kitagawa had slipped into the booth across from the Sakamoto to stare blindly at the prone blond, and Okumura was standing beside Niijima, smiling, but blinking over and over in a rapid, unnatural way like she couldn’t keep her eyes open.</p><p>And Goro stood in the open door, eyeing the group with enough weariness to match them all.</p><p>Kurusu walked in right in front of him. “I told Boss that we’re back,” he said, pocketing his phone as he headed behind the counter. He set his bag on the floor as he went, freeing Morgana to tumble out of it. “He says he’ll be here in a minute.”</p><p>
  <em> “Mgreaaaaat–” </em>
</p><p>Goro caught a smile on Kurusu’s face at Sakamoto’s muffled, mindless answer, then he turned away to slip back into the kitchen. “Coffee? Water? Soda?”</p><p><em> “Mfmmmph– </em>Soda!”</p><p>“I’ll take water, Akira-kun!”</p><p>“Coffee sounds lovely, thank you.”</p><p>“All three of them would actually be splendid.”</p><p>“I think you can make do with just one, surely.”</p><p>“I want <em> food,” </em> Futaba whined into the counter, muffling whatever reply Kitagawa had for Niijima. Morgana jumped onto her lap and curled around her stomach like a belt. She didn’t even react. “Where is Sojiro?”</p><p>“On his way,” Kurusu repeated, stepping back into sight with half a dozen sodas and waters each balanced in his arms: plainly overkill. But Niijima and Okumura stepped up to accept them all with words of thanks, and he nodded in reply before looking down again on the bright orange head planted on his counter. “Nothing to drink then?”</p><p>Futaba lifted her chin and narrowed threatening, warning eyes on the older teen. <em> “You know what I want.” </em></p><p>“Third coffee it is, then,” Kurusu replied, smiling shortly as Futaba dropped her head again. Then he turned, and looked at Goro. “You as well?” he asked, as though Goro were just another friend or cafe regular, not a barely trustworthy enemy back in Leblanc for the first time since a seemingly successful attempt on his life. “You can come in, you know.”</p><p>It was insane. Nonsensical. Goro had thought so at least a dozen times between that blasted engine room and the doorway he currently stood in. But, just like those other times, he had no idea what to say. All evidence said that Kurusu– that all of them were sincere. Whatever their stupid, inane reasons, they meant it. And with little to no reason to argue, Goro listened, closed the door, and stepped inside. </p><p>He lingered near the corner of the counter as half of the group gravitated towards the Sakamoto and Kitagawa’s booth and Morgana whined from Futaba’s lap, “You’re going to drink <em> coffee </em> this late at night?! You should be going to bed! We were out way later than usual!”</p><p>“I <em> know, </em> I can’t believe we didn’t get out of there until after– Would you <em> get up, </em> Ryuji?!” Takamaki smacked the back of Sakamoto’s thigh, and the blond’s ass popped up in the air like a jack-in-the-box. He gave a squawk and flipped over to snap at the girl, but she just kept waving her hands in his face until he scooched back and made room for her and Okumura to pile in. Niijima put out the sodas and water, then claimed the closest booth chair and pulled it over. Once they were settled, they all wilted together like synchronized swimmers, slumping with a passion to match Futaba.</p><p>They were exhausted. They had been fighting for a while already when Goro confronted them in the palace, and the quick run to secure the treasure – in a room that made Goro want to vomit just looking at it – had turned into a dragging double check of at least three corners of the ship. They had found nothing but a final will seed, a couple treasure chests, and at least a dozen unnecessary battles, but Joker had been adamant that they wouldn’t have another chance to search. They would be heading straight to the treasure room on their next visit. </p><p>Still, Goro wondered if any of the group considered the effort worth it after dragging themselves to LeBlanc so late at night. They all should have just gone home, but there seemed to be an unsaid agreement among the group that they needed to talk, <em> immediately, </em> no delays for things as trivial as ‘exhaustion’ or ‘school’. </p><p>Niijima broke the silence. “Shall we get started then, before it gets any later?” She glanced at Kurusu and Futaba, and when the former gave a nod, she turned to Goro, as well. The questions in her gaze multiplied exponentially when their eyes met, but Goro didn’t answer any of them. He remained silent until she turned back to the others. “Why don’t we start by summarizing what we did today?”</p><p>A streak of black shot off Futaba’s lap and suddenly Morgana was on the table. Apparently he hit Ryuji’s drink in the rush, as the blond scrambled to catch it. “We accomplished a good deal,” the cat said, ignoring Ryuji’s glares as he looked around at all of them. “I admit, I was a little worried about us heading in so soon after starting the mission, but we managed to explore the entire ship in one day, and found the treasure. <em> And </em> it hasn’t even been a week since we settled <em> Sae’s </em> palace!”</p><p>A week. The cat was right, wasn’t he? It was just a week ago that they sent Sae her calling card, six days since that they fought her and the trap was sprung, five since Goro went into that interrogation room and–</p><p>Goro glanced at Kurusu. Saw blood and unblinking eyes.</p><p>Kurusu wasn’t looking at him. He was still making coffee, his expression more blank than usual, though he kept glancing at the cat as he talked.</p><p>“With the doorway open and– and Akechi on our side–” Morgana turned to Goro for a second, hesitance in the look, then whipped his attention back to his teammates. “There’s nothing to stop us from stealing Shido’s treasure whenever we like now.” </p><p>“We still need to finish this before the election,” Niijima emphasized, but Sakamoto waved his hand emphatically, cutting into her comment.</p><p>“No no, it’s not just that! We should get this over with <em> asap! </em> No way I can go weeks with that creep popping up on television or screaming in the streets, saying whatever the shit he wants about us!”</p><p><em> Yes, </em> Goro had to agree. He could not stand the idea of waiting.</p><p>“I am not arguing with you,” Niijima said, leaning into her words pointedly when Sakamoto looked ready to interrupt her again. <em> “I was simply </em> thinking more about what needs to be done on this side of reality. After all, there is more to consider than just us now.” And with that, she looked at Goro again. They all did, their various expressions freezing on their faces as they stared at him, silent, <em> waiting, </em> as though they expected him to speak.</p><p>Goro stared back, searching each of their faces before glowering. “What?”</p><p>“Ah,<em> it’s nothing,” </em> Niijima lied, shifting in her seat and folding her hands in her lap before eyeing him again. “I was just wondering, you still technically work for Shido, after all. The rest of us simply need to lie low until we decide to attack, but you are expected to make contact with him, yes?”</p><p>Goro felt the impulse to grimace, to look away and snap, or fall back into familiar smiles and false ease. He did neither, eyeing Niijima a long moment before saying, “That’s right. Right now, he’s expecting me to assassinate the five you took those letters from. The real five, I mean.” <em> That </em> prompted a reaction, various levels of shock hitting the faces in front of him. “It was actually Shido’s sudden ‘change of heart’ about all of them that tipped me off to something being wrong. Your actions have already affected his behavior.” A cell phone and a strike of inspiration might also have had a hand in it, but that was neither here nor there.</p><p>“You didn’t tell him our leader’s still alive and we’re after him, did you?”</p><p>Goro focused on Sakamoto, meeting his cutting suspicion with a flat eye. “No. I wasn’t particularly keen to tell him that the trap I led failed. I wanted to handle it myself.” Kill them all before Shido could realize his mistake. </p><p>“Are you,” Takamaki started, visibly hesitating with the words. “Are you… still planning to go through with it? Killing those guys?”</p><p>They were all already looking at him, but there was still a hard tilt in the air, a rise of tension as the faint civility between them threatened to tip into full hostility. </p><p><em> Yes, </em> that would be too much for them, wouldn’t it? Would ruffle their sense of justice, shatter whatever reasoning they had managed to conjure up that made accepting him as a teammate palatable. </p><p>Goro could feel the threat of what would follow if he said anything but no, but shrugged through it. “I suppose that depends on whether we can allow him to grow suspicious of me. He is highly paranoid as it is, thanks to all of you, and will expect immediate results. He will not simply ignore their continued survival.”</p><p>Kitagawa shifted in his seat. “Could you not simply find an excuse for a delay? Perhaps something related to the Metaverse, or the psychotic breakdowns having a trigger that has not hit?”</p><p>“That won’t work,” Goro claimed, regarding Kitagawa for one heartbeat before looking at the lot of them again. “I have played him as well as I can for years, but you saw his cognition of me. He doesn't trust me, and he accused me of sabotage before I even confronted all of you. Do you <em> really </em> think I could throw him off for days, much less weeks? If there is still any hope of a cover up, I cannot allow my behavior to shift.” Of course, if Shido was trailing him or tracking him in any way, and already knew he was at LeBlanc– </p><p>“You cannot keep killing,” Okumura said, quiet and soft as usual. But her eyes, they were like a warning. “It’s not right.”</p><p>Goro stared into those eyes, heard the words said and unsaid, and said nothing. He remembered once more that he was tired.</p><p>“…Then, it sounds like our best bet is to make our move as quickly as possible,” Morgana said, cutting cautiously into the silence. “Before Shido can act on any suspicions he might already have. How soon can we do this?”</p><p>One by one eyes shifted and heads turned, and Goro followed their collective gazes. Futaba had her hand raised in the air, her eyes on them though her cheek remained plastered to the counter. “I’m good to go whenever,” she announced, looking thoroughly satisfied. “We already have the recording done, after all. I just need the go ahead and a couple of hours warning.” </p><p>Recording?</p><p>“Sweet!” Sakamoto matched the girl’s smirk with at least five times the energy before looking around at the group. “Then, what’re we waiting for, huh?! We should just go for it!”</p><p>“Ryuji-kun!” Niijima protested, alarm and the start of dread pasted over her face. “We can barely walk! You want us to set it in stone that we’ll go back to the palace <em> tomorrow?” </em></p><p>“Oh, <em> come on!” </em> the blond shot back, looking like she had just threatened homework on the first day of summer break. “It’s nothing that a little sleep can’t cure! We’ve handled worse than this!”</p><p>
  <em> “Have we?” </em>
</p><p>“Well, I can see where <em> this </em> is going,” Futaba mumbled, dropping her arm and rolling her chin to glare up at Kurusu with barely open eyes. “Where is that coffee? I’m definitely gonna need it now.”</p><p>Niijima let out a sigh while Kurusu put down a timely, steaming cup of coffee right in front of Futaba’s nose. The younger teen let out a happy noise as she pushed herself upright, but Kurusu had already turned away to look Goro dead in the eye. “How safe are you?”</p><p>It was bitter, looking into those sharp gray eyes, thinking Kurusu meant, ‘Are you dangerous? Can we trust you?’ Then context caught up with him, and Goro processed the question fully and <em> laughed. </em> “What? Are you actually worried about me?” </p><p>Kurusu didn’t respond, barely twitched, but there was an impatience in his stare, and even Goro could hear the flimsiness of his sarcasm. The memory of the day was too vivid. However illogical and unbelievable it all was, Kurusu really <em> had– </em></p><p>“I… <em> think </em> he’s asking if you think Shido would come after you if he gets suspicious.”</p><p>Goro had gathered that by then, but he still gave Takamaki a quick glance before scoffing again. <em> “Again, </em> you saw that cognition. What do you think?” </p><p>Their embarrassed silence was a nice balm to his nerves, the exposed feeling that had hit him when Kurusu looked at him. He basked in the atmosphere as Niijima rose and met Kurusu at the counter, accepting two more cups of coffee with a mumbled, “Thank you,” before delivering them to Okumura and Kitagawa. The two gave equally quiet thanks, and as he watched the group shift and look at each other and grow increasingly uncomfortable, Goro wondered clinically who would break the tension. </p><p>It was Kurusu. The scrape of porcelain brought Goro’s eyes back to him, and he looked down on a fourth coffee, placed on the counter in front of an empty booth chair. The same one Goro had once favored. Goro stared at the chair, and the coffee, and did not look up as Kurusu said, “Tomorrow then. We’ll send the card tonight, and go tomorrow.”</p><p>Again, silence, broken seconds later by Futaba mumbling, “Knew it.”</p><p>“Wait, <em> for real?!” </em></p><p>“Wait, <em> seriously?” </em> Takamaki echoed, not matching Sakamoto’s enthusiasm at all as she eyed her other teammates for back up. </p><p>Of course, Niijima was quick to give it. “We will go if you think it is wise,” she said, “You were right about what we were capable of today, certainly. But, we will definitely be exhausted, especially given our trips back to our own places tonight. Most of us won’t be in bed for a while yet.”</p><p>“I can arrange a driver for all of us if it’s too late for the trains,” Okumura offered, but she was grimacing even as she said it. “Still, I’m afraid that won’t speed up our return any…”</p><p>Kurusu shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stared them all down. “Then don’t go,” he said, as simple as that. “They sell some futons at the local store here. It should still be open. We can use the team funds to buy them, and you can stay here tonight.” </p><p>The silence was heavier that time, longer, and finally Goro himself cracked and had to ask, “Are you serious?”</p><p>Kurusu glanced at him, stared right into him. And again, Goro was lost for words.</p><p>Niijima tried to find them for him. “That’s… That is kind of you, Akira-kun, but that’s–”</p><p>“Awesome.”</p><p>Niijima and Goro both looked to Futaba, found her grinning, then Sakamoto caught their notice with a slow, “Actually <em> yeah, </em> that <em> does </em> sound kind of awesome.” </p><p>“Yes!” Okumura chirped, the next to earn their shocked stares. “It could be like a calling card send-off, pre-fight sleepover, yes?” She focused her smile on the cat on the counter. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”</p><p>“I <em> suppose,” </em> Morgana allowed, sounding uncertain, and Goro could only gawk at the lot of them. Were they <em> serious? </em></p><p>“I’d have to buy some other stuff at the store to make it work,” Takamaki mused, like she was actually considering such madness. “But, it’s not like my parents would know, so I suppose it’s cool.”</p><p>Even Kitagawa gave a nod. “It <em> would </em> be pleasant to wake up tomorrow to Boss’s curry.” </p><p>“What about my curry?”</p><p>Goro tensed at the new voice, underlined by the belated chime of a bell, and turned around.</p><p>Sakura Sojiro was at the door.</p><p>All of Goro’s planned protests about accommodations went up in smoke as he locked eyes with the older man, and saw the shock. Then the anger. </p><p><em> Ah, </em> so he knew. Of course.</p><p>There was movement behind him as Kurusu stepped up to the counter corner. “I was asking everyone to stay here for the night. We still have things to do, and it’s late.”</p><p>Sakura didn’t respond, keeping Akechi’s eye even as he slowly tilted his head towards the others. He expected answers.</p><p>The others stayed quiet.</p><p>It provided time for Sakura’s anger to grow into an obvious rage, and Goro wasn’t interested in seeing what would happen once it boiled over. He tipped his chin in acknowledgement, trying to keep his tone light. “I will see myself out.”</p><p>Something grabbed his arm. </p><p>Goro tensed, whirled around as the reality of it hit him, but the grip was a vice, and when he saw Kusuru leaning clear over the counter, his eyes still on Sakura, Goro forgot to pull away. “Akechi’s with us now.” </p><p>Is… is that what they were calling it?</p><p>“Yes!” Niijima stood up, and looked instantly regretful of drawing the cafe owner’s attention. But she persevered and strove to look calm and pleasant, like a proper student council president, perhaps one interviewing an enemy in front of a festival assembly. “It surprised us as well, to run into him. But a number of things happened inside the palace today, and despite some initial hostility, we ended up helping one another, and Akechi has agreed to work with us.” </p><p>“His past actions certainly cast a dark light over him,” Kitagawa tossed in, his words as drifting and allowing as always. “But I suppose you could say, having seen him at his worst, there is little fear of any further cruel surprises?”</p><p>How touching.</p><p>“No, seriously, he’s a complete asshole,” Sakamoto decided to share, and it was becoming harder and harder to remember why Goro shouldn’t just storm out of there, lingering grip on his arm set aside. “Shido might’ve put him up to all of it, but he decided to do all that shit himself. <em> Still, </em> I can’t think about what his old man did to him without thinking he has a right to see this–”</p><p>Would that idiotic trash <b> <em>SHUT UP?!</em> </b> </p><p>…</p><p>He had said that in his head, he was sure of it. But when no one spoke for a long moment, Goro glanced about, and realized the whole group was staring at him with various levels of alarm. </p><p>…Just what sort of expression had he been showing?</p><p>“Shido Masayoshi… is your father.”</p><p>Goro turned back, and he had not thought to check Sakura’s reaction like the others, but the older man didn’t look alarmed. He didn’t even look angry anymore. He looked pensive, displeased, his brow a mass of tight wrinkles as he stared at him. The statement hadn’t been a question, but he expected an answer all the same.</p><p>Goro jerked his arm out of Kurusu’s grip and straightened out his jacket sleeve. He could still feel the burn of his fingers. “Yes, that is correct,” he said, words flat, trying not to consider the meaning. </p><p>Sakura’s gaze slipped from him to his ward, then off somewhere else: Goro presumed he was looking at his daughter. If so, Goro doubted he would find any reassurance <em> there. </em></p><p>Or, maybe he wasn’t looking for assurance, because Sakura looked more displeased by the second. And yet, the calm remained, and after scratching the back of his head with a long sigh, he asked, “Again, what was that about my curry? Did you guys even get dinner?”</p><p>
  <em> What? </em>
</p><p>“They’re starving me, Sojiro!”</p><p><em> “Hey! </em> Don’t make it sound like <em> we </em> got to eat!”</p><p>Futaba had some response for Sakamoto, but Goro couldn’t bring himself to process it, nor did he have room to as Sakura sighed again and pinned him with another hard look. “Sit down, you’re not going anywhere.” Then he stepped right around Goro and crossed the room, heading behind the counter. Giving Kurusu a pointed nod, Sakura went back into the kitchen, and his charge followed.</p><p>They were too quiet to be heard, but they were obviously talking, and it left the rest of the teens in an awkward silence, all looking at each other. Or avoiding looks, in Goro’s case.</p><p>“I’ll–” Niijima started, then cleared her throat and started for the door. “I’ll go ahead and get those futons. Akira-kun can reimburse me with the funds later.”</p><p>Okumura burst up from the booth. “I’ll join you!”</p><p>“Me too,” Takamaki said. “I still need to get some things. You boys need anything picked up?”</p><p><em> “Eh,” </em> Sakamoto said, continuing to frown at Sakura and Kurusu’s back. As the girls filed out, he, Morgana, and Futaba kept staring at the cooks, while Kitagawa nursed his coffee and pondered the portrait of <em> Sayuri </em> on the wall.</p><p>Goro’s gaze fell on his own coffee, still waiting on the counter.</p><p>He didn’t approach it. </p><p>Half an hour later, he was staring at an equally untouched plate of curry. The smell was divine, and his stomach twisted with that level of hunger that could easily turn on itself, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat with Sakura sitting across from him, boring holes into his brow. “And you have no idea what you will be facing tomorrow?”</p><p>“Not really,” Sakamoto shared from behind him. “But if it goes the same as the other palaces, it’ll just be one long dragout fight, and then done. Tough, sure, but we’ve been through worse!” He and the others were all piled into the booth and chairs around them, facing the pair, and while the attention was unbearable, Goro was equally grateful for it, because every time Sakura asked a question, one of the group was ready with an answer, happy to paint a rough sketch of the day’s happenings and discoveries for the cafe owner. Goro hadn’t said a word since they sat down. That didn’t stop Sakura from staring at <em> him </em> the whole time, though. </p><p>“Except,” Sakura said. “This is the man who is supposedly behind most of the others you have fought. And what he’s done, it’s personal.” </p><p>Goro should keep his gaze down. He didn't want to see the knowledge and <em> pity </em> that might be in Sakura’s eyes. But, when he gave in to impulse and looked up, Sakura wasn’t even looking at him. He was looking at Kurusu, sitting beside the older man in the booth, eating his own curry with a blank face, like he couldn’t even hear them.</p><p>What… Why would he look at <em> him? </em></p><p>Eventually the silence hit even Kurusu, and he glanced up, locking eyes with his guardian. Goro couldn’t read any shift in his expression, but something about his still stare spoke clearly: Kurusu knew what Sakura meant. He didn’t want to talk about it.</p><p>“…It’s been pretty personal with all of them,” Takamaki finally shared, speaking from over Goro’s right shoulder where Sakamoto was on his left. “That shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll just look out for each other, like always.”</p><p>Sakura gave a grunt of an answer and returned his gaze to Goro, his expression dubious. “Does that include you, kid? You picking them in the heat of the moment today, was that a fluke, or for real? Will you turn on them the second Shido’s out of the picture?”</p><p><em> Ah, </em> why hadn’t Goro thought to ask that? Of course, for him it would be why didn’t the others <em> expect </em> that of him. Still, the point remained– “I’ve done all I have to get to him,” he claimed, staring down into his curry. “If Shido is out of the picture… I have no reason to fight them.” Their battle today showed that no matter what, he couldn’t stand up against them. He couldn’t pretend he was better than them, no matter what he did. Couldn’t hide in the comfort of that thought anymore.</p><p>There was silence for a heartbeat, another long, dragging sigh from Sakura, then the door chime rang again.</p><p>“Akechi?” </p><p>His back tensed, muscles seizing up, then as composure slid back in Goro shifted and glanced over his shoulder. </p><p>It was Sae. She stood at the door, letting it swing shut behind her as she took him in. Her gaze was unsurprised, unblinking, and as she closed the distance between them she scrutinized him closely. The effect was familiar, nostalgic in a way, but Goro found himself metaphorically stepping back from the inspection. “Sae-san, it is good to see you,” he greeted, tone light, old habits bleeding in as he tried to smile. But the expression didn’t rise right, he could feel it and see it in Saw’s frown, so he dropped it instantly and returned to staring at his curry.</p><p>“Makoto texted me to say you were here.” There was a shift, maybe Sae turning to her sister or Niijima rising to greet her. Or, maybe the group was staring at Niijima. Goro hadn’t heard her mention such a text, after all. “I wanted to come see for myself, and hear about what happened.” </p><p>“It’s mostly just what I said over the phone,” Niijima said, but she sounded uncertain, and Goro did not hear Sae shift again. Her voice was still right by him when she spoke.</p><p>“Akechi?”</p><p>He breathed out the urge to snap, considered trying again for his usual, light-toned front… and settled on a true, if flat, “I am afraid I don’t know what I could add to the story. Niijima was there the whole time. I am certain she shared everything essential. We will take out Shido tomorrow, and change his heart.”</p><p>“Yes, but you are the only one who can do something <em> after that, </em> aren’t you?”</p><p>Goro glanced up, meeting her eye. “What do you mean?”  </p><p>“You have firsthand knowledge of his actions and crimes, yes?” Sae asked, though it wasn’t a question. “We would have to discuss how to use that knowledge, but I don’t want to take any chances. We can’t rely on a confession alone, and I need any crime we charge him with to stick.” </p><p>Understandable, and once he thought about it, Goro could see in a clinical way how he could be a great asset to Sae’s case. Of course she would not ignore that. The ‘how’ as she put it gave him pause, as it could easily drag him into scenarios that involved barred windows or a bullet in the head – <em>how fitting</em> – but the fact remained– “Aren’t you putting the cart before the horse? That cannot matter until we actually succeed and change his heart. Without a confession, or indisputable evidence–” The sort he had killed to try and find, the sort he needed Shido’s trust to gain access to– “Nothing I could share will matter.”</p><p>Sae clearly agreed, though she just as clearly resented that fact. She gave him an impatient look, then sighed, turning to Sakura. “Normally in these circumstances – not that there is anything normal about this – I would be taking Akechi into custody, be it lock up or protective. Given how my sister says you need him, though, are you comfortable housing him?”</p><p>Goro would have assumed she knew about the ‘sleepover’, given Niijima had spoken to her. But slowly, the true meaning of her words occurred to him, and shock hit his system. She couldn’t mean– </p><p>“Yeah, that should be fine,” Sakura said, reluctant to the point of grimacing. “But, I’m not letting him in the house. I’m not putting that on Futaba. If he’s staying until this is cleared up, it’ll be <em> here, </em> in the cafe.”</p><p>They <em> did. </em></p><p>“Assuming, that is, <em> you </em> are okay with that,” he went on, looking at Kurusu. Sakura clearly expected, maybe even hoped Kurusu would hesitate, deny, maybe hedge acceptance by saying something like ‘only for tonight, only while the others are here’. But Kurusu, being predictable only in his unpredictability, gave his guardian a light, baffled expression before nodding once and returning to his curry.</p><p>“It’s fine. He can stay.” </p><p>“Good, then in that case–” </p><p>“I don’t need to,” Goro cut in, breathless with the rush to speak up. “I have my own place.” He wasn’t sure why he was in that cafe <em> at all– </em></p><p>“A place provided by Shido?” Sae asked, eyeing him in a way that made Goro want to scream at her, tell her, ‘don’t look at me like I am stupid!’ “You think that’s safe?” </p><p>It likely wasn’t. Even if they changed Shido’s heart, Goro had no idea how long results might take, what orders might be in place to take care of him automatically. If Shido had any outstanding orders to respond to changes in Goro’s behavior… But, it didn’t matter. Accepting <em> staying there– </em>“A hotel then. I have funds. There is no reason for me to–”</p><p>“Hotels can be traced,” Sae interrupted, leaning back on a heel as she crossed her arms and stared him down. “Admittedly, staying here isn’t much more subtle, but if Kurusu and Sakura are comfortable with it, I would rather have you where we can keep an eye on you. For everyone’s sake.”</p><p>“We can swing by your place <em> as a group </em> to pick up whatever you need,” Sakura said. “But be prepared to not return anytime soon. I hope you don’t have a pet.”</p><p><em> Heh… </em> <b> <em>heh heh.</em> </b></p><p>Perfect.</p><p>Goro didn’t have to listen, he <em> knew </em> he didn’t have to listen. He could curse at them, screw their threats, and just walk out, consequences be damned. But all he did was clench his teeth until his ears ached and <em> watch </em> as Sae smiled at Kurusu. “Thank you for agreeing to handle this. I know it won’t make for a relaxed home life, but I do think this is for the best.”</p><p>Kurusu nodded, said, “Course,” like she had just asked him to water some plants while she was out of town. Sae responded with a nod of her own, then turned away from the table. She spoke with her sister, and her voice – oddly calm and warm against the backdrop of memory – fell from Goro’s notice as he glared into his rice. It was all just so… <em> predictable </em> in a ‘he should have seen it coming’ sort of way. Of course they wanted to keep an eye on him, of course he wasn’t trusted, of course Sae would– Could Goro expect to have handcuffs on his wrists by the end of the week, or the month? It seemed inevitable suddenly, but how long would it take for her to just– </p><p>A hand fell on his shoulder, and he tensed, remained stiff as he looked up to find Sae <em> smiling </em> at him. “This isn’t the end of this,” she vowed, “We’ll talk more. But, until then, I <em> am </em> glad you decided to work with the others. And that you are alright.”</p><p>Goro stared up at her, speechless and dizzy, just as he had been back in that engine room, when the others accepted him. It was like the floor had gone missing.</p><p>Unlike the others though, Sae didn’t wait for a response. She said her peace, let go, and walked away, calling for her sister to join her. There was some exchange between them at the door, something about coming home and needing to remain for the calling card, but Akechi wasn’t listening. It was their body language that grabbed his attention, the way the sisters looked relaxed together, how Sae opened her arms and took the hug Niijima so eagerly gave. </p><p>They seemed… <em> happy. </em> And Sae, had she… had they <em> really </em> not changed her heart?</p><p>There was a knock on the table, and he turned back to find Sakura looking at him, his knuckles on the wood. “You heard her,” he said, eyeing him with that same critical eye he’d been giving him since they sat down. “You’re staying put. I’ll be leaving you to Akira for the most part, but I <em> know </em> what you did,” he warned, and the spark of cold fire in his eyes warned Goro that Sakura wasn’t just thinking of the last week. “If he and the others vouch for you, and you actually backed them, then <em> fine. </em> You can consider yourself on ‘probation’.”</p><p>Goro’s eyes, of course, slipped to Kurusu at the word. The other teen was eating again, not even looking at them. But there was a faint, miniscule smile on his face.</p><p>
  <em> Ass. </em>
</p><p>“But there better not be any other funny business. Do I make myself clear?”</p><p>Goro tore his eyes off Kurusu, and met Sakura’s again. “Crystal,” he said, the word dry and sardonic even to his ear. But, perhaps Sakura appreciated the honesty, because he nodded once, then stood. </p><p>“Good. Now eat. Stop wasting our food.”</p><p>Goro looked down at the meal as Sakura moved away, and he heard the thieves all shift, breaking away from their silent watch of the standoff. Small conversations broke out, quiet and scattered across the room, and he could feel the tension slowly loosening in his chest. The release of it just left him more exhausted, though, and he stared into the curry, unwilling to even bother picking up the fork.</p><p>Until, another one tapped the edge of his plate. “It’s not poisoned, you know,” Kurusu said, not looking up, immediately retracting his fork to resume his meal. “Eat.” </p><p>Goro’s hands remained on his lap, his eyes on Kurusu, no thought in his head. Just a mess, a swirl of feelings all untethered and adrift, none loud enough for words.</p><p>Eventually Kurusu paused again, and looked up, considering him out of the corner of his eye. “Do I need to taste test it for you?”</p><p>Goro sniffed, the move lighting his synapses and freeing his hand to finally rise and claim his fork. “Shut up,” he said, the words far less cutting than he would have liked. He took a bite.</p><p>The curry was as he remembered, sharp, and good, and familiar. </p><p>He glanced up again, and the quiet, averted smile on Kurusu’s face, that was familiar, too.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> “And all of us are alive and kicking!” </em>
</p><p>“Holy shit, it worked!” </p><p>“I can’t believe it! Did she really manage to get this on all the national airwaves?!”</p><p>“She must’ve! My notifications are blowing up right now! The whole internet is live-reacting to it!” </p><p>“Did you– <em> did you just swear on a national broadcast, Ryuji-kun?” </em></p><p>“Hey! You don’t know that was me! The voices are scrambled!”</p><p>
  <em> “–recent scandals of psychotic breakdowns and mental shutdowns, these weren't caused by unknown reasons. One man is–”  </em>
</p><p>The broadcast droned on, barely intelligible between the voice modifications, the group talking over it, and the poor quality of the cafe television. Half of the group was gathered around the box, watching as the calling card played live in front of them. The only ones not right in front of it were Futaba, back at her house running the thing, Kurusu, lingering behind the counter as he listened, and Goro. Goro remained where he had been, at the booth, his plate gone and hands folded on the table. His knuckles were white from clenching.</p><p>“Wait, what– <em> Aw crap, </em> did we get kicked off?!”</p><p>“Unsurprising, I suppose.”</p><p>Goro glanced up, grabbed by the words, but even as he looked the colored lines on the screen switched back to a black ball with cat ears.</p><p>
  <em> “–Shido Masayoshi. Everything that man says is a lie!”  </em>
</p><p>He dropped his gaze again.</p><p>The message got repetitive. <em> Long. </em> If he had had a say in it, he would have told them not to repeat so much when they had to fight for every second of access to the airwaves. But the message was pre-recorded, didn’t include him, and while that was likely wise from a subterfuge standpoint, it left him outside of it all. Unconnected.</p><p>He had said it, right? He was <em> not </em> part of their team.</p><p>
  <em> “–watch some crook ruin this country just because of his goddamn ego! Ain’t that right, Leader?!”  </em>
</p><p>“Haha! This is perfect!”</p><p>Goro looked up, not at the screen and the masked face recklessly shown there, but at the owner of that face, that voice proclaiming he would ‘take the country’. Kurusu was bent over the counter, his chin in his palm and his eyes glued to the television. While Sakamoto whooped and Okumura and Takamaki shared a happy double high-five, while the energy in the room remained high and loud, <em> he </em> remained quiet.</p><p>When the broadcast finally ended, the group dissolved into chatter, and Kurusu looked at Goro, his eyes glinting. </p><p>Goro met his stare until Sakamoto came around to pull Kurusu into a side hug so sudden and violent, his chin slipped and hit the counter. There were apologies, but Goro didn’t watch to see them.</p>
<hr/><p>He couldn’t sleep.</p><p>Goro stared at the ceiling beams, slowly going insane as he listened to Sakamoto snore. They had all gone to bed not long after the broadcast, the team congratulating one another and texting Futaba praise until joy turned to yawns and Morgana piped up to call the night to an end. Within half an hour, Goro found himself in Kurusu’s bed, in <em> Kurusu’s clothes, </em> the usual occupant sleeping on one of the futons set up around the space heater in the middle of the room, his cat on his legs and Sakamoto and Kitagawa in the beds around him. They were all so exhausted that they passed out immediately. All of them, except for Goro. </p><p>He turned his head, considered the silhouettes on the floor near him… and grimaced. The pillow, it smelled like… like mint, and something artificially fresh. Was it– Had Kurusu <em> not even taken– </em> </p><p>He sat up, ran his hands roughly through his hair, then stood, moving away as quietly as his irritation would allow. He knew from previous meetings where the floor creaked, how to walk, and he was confident in his stride as he made for the stairs. No one stirred behind him.</p><p>Unfortunately, he didn’t find such luck downstairs.</p><p>Niijima and Okumura were at the far booth, facing each other and talking by the faint light of the window. They were speaking in near whispers, and there was a heavy, sympathetic sort of look on Niijima’s face, until she noticed <em> him </em> and it dissipated. Okumura followed her gaze and, seeing Goro, her expression cooled, too. But it didn’t go fully cold, and Goro couldn’t quite parse the sincerity of the smile she gave him. “Hello. Are you having trouble sleeping as well?” </p><p>Those two hadn’t even tried. They were still dressed, and while Goro could see Takamaki out cold in one of the three futons set up near the door, the other two were still made. But, he saw no reason to call the lie, so he shrugged. “I was thirsty.” As good an excuse as any, and it certainly sounded better than ‘I couldn’t stand it up there’. The wakefulness of the two undid any thought of downstairs being better, or of stepping outside, so he fell into the excuse and went straight for the kitchen. </p><p>“I… hope tomorrow goes smoothly.”</p><p>Goro hummed in response, though Okumura likely couldn’t hear it over the faucet as he filled a glass. He wasn’t of a mind for small talk, or for pretending he cared for it with people who already knew the truth.</p><p>“You didn’t have too much caffeine earlier, did you?” It was Niijima that time. “I bought some melatonin at the store, if you need it.”</p><p>“You should take it yourself then, if you haven’t.” Glass full, he took one long sip for the sake of appearances, then turned back. The girls were still staring at him. The attention was oppressive, and made Goro sharply aware of his messed hair and borrowed clothes.</p><p>“…Do you have any plans, then?” Niijima tried, clearly fishing for something to say. “Assuming tomorrow goes well.”</p><p>Goro frowned. Shouldn’t that be obvious? Maybe not, since Niijima seemed sincerely curious about the answer. He breathed out, made a dismissive wave to the side, and took a drink. “Presumably, I will end up in jail or some detention center,” he said, eyeing them over the rim of the glass. “Does that not suit you, or would you prefer to take care of me yourself?” </p><p>For a moment Niijima seemed irritated – she looked like her sister when she did that – but Okumura murmured, “That does seem like a concern,” in a light, disassociated way, as though it would trouble her as much as rain on a planned outing. </p><p>Somehow, that softened Niijima’s reaction, and she was calm as she said, “They will likely have a difficult time proving your involvement though, unless they bring the truth of the Metaverse to light, and that seems unlikely.”</p><p>True, but it was never a question of evidence to Goro. Excuses and fabrications could be found. If those in charge thought he should be locked up, he would be. </p><p>“Still,” Niijima went on, that curiosity back in her gaze. “You thought the Phantom Thieves were done for until today, right? And you were planning to handle Shido on your own terms after the election? You must have given some thought to what you would do afterwards.”</p><p>Must he have? It seemed far too cruel to disabuse the girl of the notion, or what he had actually expected would happen. “Why are you asking?”</p><p>“You made it fairly clear what you wanted,” Okumura explained, displaying such a unity of thought with Niijima that Goro wondered if they had been discussing the matter before he walked in. “But, not really what you expected out of it… I was wondering, what did you hope to gain from everything you did, beyond the acknowledgement of your father?”</p><p>What a pretty way to put it. </p><p>“…If you are fishing for why I was willing to kill complete strangers purely on an order,” Goro stated, unsurprised when Okumura blanched at the mention and his slow, bland tone. “I am afraid you will be disappointed. Even if I could share my reasons properly, I doubt you would agree that they – or any reason – would be worth it. I won’t insult you by pretending there could be a reason like that.” That was how people like them liked to think, after all.</p><p>“R-right…” </p><p>Okumura turned away, refacing Niijima with a bent head, and Goro could see Niijima’s frustration. She didn’t seem actively angry, however, which surprised him. Perhaps that was why he felt the urge to press further when he clearly did not need to. “It was just revenge,” he said, looking down and staring into his water, the wood of the floorboards just visible through the glass. “Nothing else. I gave up all reservations to reach it, everything I had or could want, in order to gain it.” Even his own sense of justice, simply to gain that validation, the hope of it all being worth something– “To me, it was worth it. That is all.”</p><p>There was silence for a while then, long enough that Goro wondered if he had troubled the two into distancing themselves from the conversation, and from him. </p><p>That was fine. It was what he had expected, after all, and there was a certain satisfaction to be had in simply being right. Thinking so, he smiled a bit, and turned to go.</p><p>“I… gathered that much. After all, you were willing to kill Akira-kun for it.”</p><p>He stopped.</p><p>…Turned back, to look at Okumura.</p><p>She was facing him again, waiting for his response. And where Goro expected to see malice or anger, there was nothing. Just… a knowing.</p><p>That was worse. </p><p>He clenched the glass as an anchor to keep his face blank. “What is your point?”</p><p>“Akira-kun has not told us much about your conversations,” Niijima assured him, as though he had <em> asked. </em> “But, it came up a little around the school festival, when we wanted to contact you. And Futaba-chan overheard some things at times. It… seemed like you were close.”</p><p>He hated it. </p><p>He looked at his water, because if he looked at <em> them, </em> he would snap. “I tricked all of you in a number of ways as part of my goal.” Why were they talking about this? </p><p>“True, but… even if it was a trick, you risked your life for all of us,” Niijima argued, so gentle and patient about it that he wanted to toss his glass in her face. “Even to the detriment of your goal, and your own survival. And Akira-kun, he risked himself to save you, too. You… you are connected to him, to all of us now. Whether or not you want to do anything about it, it’s true.”</p><p>Why were they talking about this?</p><p>Quiet fell for a while, and Niijima did not continue until Goro looked up and acknowledged that he heard her. “Whatever you gave up before, you have connections now,” she emphasized, tense but so visibly earnest. “You are, and <em> can </em> be more. Have more, after Shido. …I just wondered if you had thought about that.” </p><p>…</p><p>Why… were they talking about this? He had killed Okumura’s father, used Niijima’s sister. That was clearly on both of their minds, and yet they… </p><p>…</p><p>He looked down into his water again… then breathed out, put the glass on the counter, and turned away. “No. I haven’t.” There was no need. He could see the certainty of what lay ahead. What was there to consider?</p><p>“I hope you find it then!” Okumura told his back. “A reason to hope, and be better.” </p><p>Goro climbed the stairs, and didn’t respond.</p><p>He made it two steps out of sight of them, and stalled. “…Hear anything interesting?” Kurusu, already halfway up the stairs, stopped. Then he turned around and looked down at him. There was no guilt in his face, nor anything at all, beyond that faint dissatisfaction that was so <em> him. </em> And he said nothing, just looked at Goro until he quietly prodded again, “No little pearls of wisdom of your own to share?”</p><p>Goro saw it, something sparked in Kurusu’s eyes at the subtle cut in his voice, a memory or sense of fight, Goro wasn’t sure. But it felt good. Then his face minutely relaxed, and– “Don’t die.”</p><p>Goro huffed, his amusement dead on arrival, but as the words lingered, they caught in his head. Why? <em> Why </em> did he care? Why did any of them care? He stared up at him, looking in vain for an answer as Kurusu simply mirrored his confusion back at him. It made Goro breathe out, and look away. “I’m tired,” he said, clutching the railing another moment before letting go, and climbing up. Kurusu didn’t move, remaining where he was as Goro slid right past him. Kurusu’s eyes followed him as he went, and the result was a shared glance just as Goro hit Kurusu’s step, both of them asking, and too exhausted to answer. Then Goro moved on, and was back in the room.</p><p>Already halfway to the bed, he heard Kurusu follow.</p><p>Morgana was awake, but he did nothing but yawn and question Kurusu as he returned to the futon. Goro ignored their exchange and climbed back into bed, facing the window. He listened to the two quietly speak, and resettle, and then there was nothing but the sounds of the city again, the usual hum that passed as silence in that world. </p><p>Goro listened to it, and didn’t, and thought, <em> ‘Tomorrow. It will be over tomorrow.’ </em> He had imagined that day a thousand times, and never the one after, as Niijima and Okumura put it, and <em> never, </em> if he considered it, the night before either. The last sleep, before… It sounded insane, really, trying to sleep then. He should have been too busy, too excited, too anxious for everything to go perfectly. And yet there he lay, listening to teammates who were enemies and friends who were not friends breathe behind him. People he had fought. People who would help… There was a steadiness there, in their breathing. Even Sakamoto’s snoring felt natural, after a time. That consistency, it was easy to fall into.</p><p>Goro listened to them breathe, and finally, turning his face into the pillow, shut his eyes.</p><p>In the end, he slept.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next time: Akira has some errands to run and Goro cannot believe the team is still anonymous.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WHELP, I intended to swap PoVs between chapters, but this one is getting so long, the last couple of scenes will have to wait until next chapter. Might make the pacing a bit quirky, too, but c'est la vie! We shall see.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> “Aaaahhh, </em> this is the best!” Ann cried, stretching her arms as she came down the attic stairs. Her night clothes were bunched under one arm and her school uniform was back on, and as she hit the ground floor she beamed at the girl sitting at the counter. “Thanks for grabbing my stuff, Makoto. There’s nothing quite as nice as warm clothes right out of the drier!”</p><p>“You are very welcome,” the older teen said, smiling before focusing her gaze and a teasing tone on the <em> other </em> blond of the group, currently sitting beside her. “That said, we are all very lucky that our things were not stolen, and that we still had time to finish the drying cycle. It’s not safe to leave laundry unattended in a public wash, you know. Especially overnight.”</p><p><em> “Hey!” </em> Rice and curry flew across the counter as Ryuji dropped his fork and glowered at Makoto. “I just <em> forgot, </em> okay?! I was just so excited after the broadcast last night! Not like anything went missing, right?!”</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, yes.” </em>
</p><p><em> “Alright,” </em> Sojiro cut in, looking up from the coffee he was brewing to frown at the lot of them. “I’m not interested in hearing you kids bicker first thing in the morning. Who’s next?”</p><p>“Oh! Uh, I believe that would be me?” Haru asked from her spot at a booth, putting down her tea and glancing about the room for any sign of disagreement. There was none, but she still hesitated as she stood, holding the robe she had borrowed from Futaba shut so it completely covered her night clothes. “Unless… Did you want to change first, Akira-kun? Akechi-kun? I wouldn’t mind waiting.”</p><p>Akechi gave a hard sniff over his coffee, so quiet that most likely didn’t hear it. Akira, however, was standing right in front of him behind the counter. He smirked at the food he was packing up, closing up another bag as he looked at his friend with a relaxed glance. “It’s fine, Haru. Go ahead. Won’t your limo be by soon?”</p><p>“Ah. <em> Right.” </em></p><p>“I forgot how <em> early </em> school is!” Morgana whined as Haru carried her folded clothes upstairs, yawning through the last of the complaint. He smacked his feline lips together in a far too human way and wilted a little farther into the booth chair he perched on, squinting a glare up at Akira. “It’s been just a week, and this is <em> already </em> torture! Your horrible sleep schedule is rubbing off on me! Even when you listen to me and go to bed properly, you’re never up until noon!”</p><p>“What can I say?” Akira said, shooting the not-cat a blank look. “I sleep like the dead.” </p><p>Morgana responded with a disgusted scoff while Sojiro turned to shoot him a baffled look, not having heard the feline’s side of the conversation. Which was fine, Akira’s nearest friends offered a better response, Makoto giving a telling cough while Ryuji choked on his curry before belatedly swallowing it down with a laugh. </p><p><em> “Dude, </em>when are you gonna run out of those?!”</p><p>Akira’s only response was a shrug and a half-smirk as he wrapped up the last pack. Gathering the bags up, he piled them on the countertop and looked up to announce them to the group– and saw Akechi staring at him like he had been shocked. Or shot.</p><p>Akira stilled in response, uncertain what that look– but locking eyes prompted Akechi to look away, evading Akira’s gaze to stare at the muted news on the television. </p><p>He wasn’t watching it, it was a dodge, but Akira saw that… and dropped his head to hide a grimace behind bangs and glasses. </p><p>Maybe he should lay off the ‘walking dead’ jokes.</p><p>Hearing the front door bell jingle, they all looked up as Sojiro tossed out a dismissive, “Not open yet!” But when he – and they – saw who it was, the cafe owner cocked a brow at the arrival instead. <em> “Huh. </em> When did you sneak off?”</p><p>“My apologies for disappearing without any announcement.” Yusuke bowed his head briefly before walking up and dropping maybe five or six bouquets of flowers on the side counter, all gigantic and unimaginative and made up of half-wilted tulips and roses. “I wished to get you soba, but I could not find any restaurants currently open within walking distance of the cafe. If I were not worried about missing my ride, I would have explored further in search of a better gift.”</p><p>“Hey.” Ann walked closer to the offering to get a better look. “Aren’t those from that store around the corner where we got the futons?”</p><p>“Dude, <em> why </em> would Akira or Boss want those?” Ryuji asked, while Sojiro joined the gathering to eye the flowers like it was a pile of dirty laundry, and not his own. </p><p>Yusuke, blessedly, missed the look as he focused his indignance on Ryuji. “I <em> must </em> express proper gratitude for once again being welcomed into his home!”</p><p>“Cafe.” </p><p>“And <em> furthermore!” </em> he went on, ignoring Morgana’s correction as he smiled at LeBlanc’s owner. “I was hoping the flowers would bring a touch of life and color to the room! Forgive me if I am overstepping my bounds by saying so and asking, but assuming there is still time before Haru’s driver arrives, I would like to arrange the flowers about the room in a way that is most aesthetically pleasing to the eye.”</p><p><em> “Right.” </em> Sojiro stopped using his cigarette to prod the closest tulip – Akira thought he saw a burn mark on a yellow petal – and eyed Yusuke with a wary, suspicious look, not too far off the one he shot Akechi at every turn. “You do what you want, kid.”</p><p>“Thank you, sir.”</p><p>“Um, just out of curiosity,” Ann started, waving for Yusuke’s attention before he could rush into a creative frenzy. “How much did all of this cost you?”</p><p>“What, this?” Yusuke gave the bouquets a baffled look, then waved dismissively. “The arrangement and quality may be cheap, but bringing together the blooms are worth every yen, I assure you! I have no regrets about emptying my wallet to procure them all!”</p><p>The cafe fell silent for a moment, every face in the room etched with exasperation or resignation. Every face save Akechi’s, who stared nonplussed at the artist, and Akira’s, who ducked his head to hide his smirk. </p><p>Yusuke was a delight all on his own, but with reactions like <em> that– </em></p><p>“You are lucky Haru-chan has offered us rides this morning, and your dorm is right by school,” Makoto said, breaking the silence. “But what about your meals? How do you plan to eat today?”</p><p><em> “Ah, </em> a little starving is worth an artistic vision. I will endure.” </p><p>Ryuji gave a snort. “Says the guy who scarfed down two plates of curry this morning.”</p><p>“Lucky you we still have some left over then,” Sojiro said, looking at Akira before motioning towards the group. “Go on, then. Obviously this is even more needed than I thought.”</p><p>Akira grinned before pushing forward the food he had packed. “Here. There’s one for each of you.”</p><p>“What– <em> score!” </em></p><p>“That is exceedingly kind of both of you! Your generosity never fails to–”</p><p>“Thank you, Akira-kun!” Ann exclaimed, interrupting Yusuke and jumping up to claim her own bag. “You too, Boss!”</p><p>“Don’t mention it,” Sojiro answered, smiling at Ann in specific before pushing forward an offering of his own: four tall thermoses. “There’s coffee, too, and if you don’t want to drink it yet, it should stay warm for a while.”</p><p>“That’s awesome!”</p><p>“That is very thoughtful of you,” Makoto agreed, but beside her Ryuji deflated a bit, his joy at having a free meal fading somewhat at the mention of coffee…</p><p>Until Akira prodded him in the side of the head with a fifth thermos. “I made you hot chocolate.”</p><p>The blond’s face lit up again, his grin wider than ever as he took the drink. “You’re the <em> best, </em> man!”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Akechi made a short, nondescript noise, but when Akira looked his way, he was back to watching the news.</p><p>“Okay, everyone!” Haru pocketed her phone as she came down the stairs, smiling at them all. “My driver just texted me. He said he’s just around the block!”</p><p>“Then I suppose that is our queue,” Makoto observed, putting down her fork and rising with a smile for Sojiro. “Again, thank you for taking care of us like this.”</p><p>“My pleasure.” Sojiro motioned at the last unclaimed meals with a grin. “You kids take it easy and get to class… and be careful.” His expression sobered with the last point, and the mood in the entire cafe dropped, going quiet with meaning… until Makoto nodded back.</p><p>“We will.”</p><p>“Yeah, you–” Ann hesitated, looking between Akira and Akechi as she asked, “What are we doing, exactly? I know we’re going to the palace today, but…” </p><p>“Head to the Nagatacho station right after school,” Akira supplied, coming up with a plan on the spot. His teams’ gazes assured him it sounded perfectly thought out. “Then text the chat and wait. Don’t go to the Diet Building until we’re together. I’ll bring something to eat before we head in.”</p><p><em> “Yeah, </em> this won’t be quick, will it?” Ryuji sighed, but he didn’t seem too troubled by the thought or to expect an answer. He just grabbed his stuff and moved for the door along with Ann while Yusuke bowed again to Sojiro, Haru bid Morgana farewell, and Makoto hesitated at Akechi’s side.</p><p>“I… suppose we will see you there as well?” She clearly wasn’t asking, just feeling out the situation, and Akira doubted she found much assurance in the side-eye Akechi tossed her. He remained facing the counter, his body language tense and unwelcoming, and while Akira could only guess, he wondered if his state of dress had anything to do with it. It was one thing to be caught with ruffled hair and borrowed sweats when they were all a mess, but with everyone else dressed to go–</p><p>“I’ll be there,” Akechi swore, then turned back to his coffee, clearly uninterested in further words.</p><p>Makoto seemed to get that. “Right.” She tugged herself out of the awkward dead end and nodded at Akira with a quick, strained smile. “We will see you after school, Leader.”</p><p>Akira nodded back, offering his own encouraging look until she and the others were out the door, Ann the last out as she waved over her shoulder. “Later!!”</p><p>“Have a good day, Lady Ann!” Morgana cried, and then they were gone, and the room felt emptied out, not-cat and cafe owner both sighing in the silence.</p><p>“Guess I should actually prep to open, then,” Sojiro said, rubbing the back of his neck before straightening his glasses and squinting at Akira. “I’ll need you to wash all of those dishes your friends left while I clear out these flowers. And get dressed before my customers get here.”</p><p>“That won’t be a problem,” Akira assured, gathering up the plates and utensils and everything, save for the cup still in Akechi’s hands. “We need to go out as soon as we wrap up here.”</p><p>“Where are we going?” Morgana asked just as Sojiro said, “Are you taking Futaba?” the two questions overlapping.</p><p>“No, that’s not necessary. She can sleep in and stay here once she’s up,” Akira told his guardian, dropping dishes in the sink before answering Morgana. “I want to stop by the clinic this morning.”</p><p>There was a beat of silence behind his back as he turned on the water and picked up a rag, then Morgana let an incredulous, <em> “That’s </em> the ‘pick-me-up’ you promised everybody so we could strike the palace today?! You’re getting it from <em> her?!” </em></p><p>“Why not? They work. And you know her medicine is safe.” Those pills were the entire reason he wasn’t a walking bruise at the moment, after everything that happened last week. And Morgana <em> knew that, </em> and as he tackled the first dish Akira tossed him a look, willing the not-cat to remember that without having to state so in front of the others.</p><p>Morgana visibly wilted and, blessedly, said nothing.</p><p>But Akechi– “Who are you speaking of?” </p><p>Akira’s gaze flicked to Akechi, still right where he had left him, sitting at the counter in his usual spot, drinking his usual coffee. </p><p>Back, like he had never left. </p><p>Like he <em> never left– </em></p><p>Akira turned back to the sink and scratched at a stubborn stain on a bowl. He wouldn’t think about that. “Takemi-sensei, a doctor in the neighborhood. She’s really good.”</p><p>“A good doctor <em> and </em> good customer,” Sojiro agreed, passing through Akira’s peripheral with an armload of flowers. “A pity she hasn’t come by much lately. I miss her tips.”</p><p>“I’ll be sure to mention that to her,” Akira teased, moving on to a cup as he heard the front door open and shut. Hopefully Sojiro was taking the bouquets to his house, and not the dumpster. Either way, Akira tilted his head enough to make it clear he was speaking to Akechi. “When I go, I’d like you to come along.” </p><p>“Why?” </p><p>“It would be good for you to know this place.” Akira paused his work long enough to turn around and lean his hip against the sink, so as to meet Akechi’s eye as he added, “Morgana’s the only one besides me who knows about her, and if we’re not there, or down for the count, someone else on the team should know how to find her. And she should know to recognize them.”</p><p>Akechi’s frown twisted into something harsh, and he looked almost irate as he glared at the door, away from Akira. But he said nothing. </p><p>The reaction was as silent as it was surprising, and Akira cocked a brow at the other teen and waited, until it was clear he’d be getting nothing but a wall. Then he turned back to the sink. “So, will you come?”</p><p>Akechi still didn’t respond for a while, but finally Akira heard the soft chink of a cup being set on the counter. “I shouldn’t go out more than absolutely necessary. I might be recognized. …I would assume it would be the same for <em> you, </em> if not to the same degree.”</p><p>“I get around fine.” After drying the cup, Akira glanced back and measured Akechi up with a long, scrutinizing look. “Though… you may be right. We might need to do something about <em> you.” </em></p><p>Akechi eyed him back, but the tight line of his mouth and the warning in his gaze said he already suspected he wouldn’t like where this was going. </p><p>Akira turned back to the sink to hide a smile.</p>
<hr/><p>Morgana was speechless, perched at the end of Akira’s bed and gawking openly at the teen standing in the middle of the attic.</p><p>Akira, for his part, valiantly hid his own reaction with a knuckle to his lips. Perhaps his delight and laughter still shone through, though, because Akechi was essentially unblinking with his murderous glare as he stood there in Akira’s extra set of jeans, his school turtleneck, and the red sneakers and hoodie Akira had dragged out of the bottom of his clothes box. They had been gifts sent by his sister last month for his birthday, but Akira could never bring himself to wear them before, the giant gold stars on the hoodie far too bright for his tastes. Now though he was grateful for the present, and moreover that he and Akechi seemed to be about the size, because this– <em> this </em> was a gift.</p><p>And Akechi looked ready to stuff that gift down his throat and <em> choke him </em> as Akira shared, “This should work.”</p><p>
  <em> “Should it?” </em>
</p><p>“You definitely don’t look like ‘yourself’.”</p><p>Akechi scoffed, glowering down at himself as he pulled restlessly at his gloves. They really didn’t fit the outfit at all, the leather too high a quality to pair with basic polyester. Akira decided not to say so. “It may be <em> unexpected </em> to anyone who knows me, but if someone recognizes my face–”</p><p>“We managed to trick a crowd once before, right?” Akira interrupted, and Akechi froze, looked at him like he couldn’t believe Akira brought that up. Like it was a forbidden topic or something. </p><p><em> Why, </em> Akira wanted to ask. Why shouldn’t he bring it up? It wasn’t like it was a bad… But he saw the look on Akechi’s face. Felt Morgana staring at them, confused, because he didn’t know– No, he wasn’t there for that, was he? It was just him and Akechi. That was their memory. And when Akira considered elaborating, explaining the incident, he found he didn’t want to. Found it hard to talk at all, all of a sudden.</p><p>Was that how it was to be now? Was he supposed to pretend no such thing happened? Consider anything they shared outside of the thieves or the investigation or the metaverse or their mission an awkward topic? Incidental? A lie?</p><p>
  <em> ‘I tricked all of you in a number of ways as part of my goal.’ </em>
</p><p>…</p><p>…Akira should let it go. It wasn’t the time. And he could sense the pressure from Akechi and logic alike to sidestep. Move on. <em> Back off. </em> </p><p>Akira felt it… and took off his glasses.</p><p>Akechi sucked in a breath, but Akira pretended not to hear it, considering his fake lenses. <em> “Actually, </em> thinking back on that,” he said, only to step forward and turn the glasses around. Akechi tensed at the invasion of his personal space, but Akira felt nothing but a rush as he ignored the mute alarms, as Akechi <em> didn’t </em> dodge or push him off. He stayed perfectly still as Akira slid the glasses onto his face. </p><p>They didn’t even touch, technically.</p><p>Akira didn’t breathe either. Not until he stepped back to admire his work, hands in his pockets and satisfaction on his face. “There. Incognito Akechi, Two-Point-Oh.”</p><p>And indeed, it <em> was </em> fine work, if he could say so himself. But Akechi tore off the glasses the second Akira was out of his bubble. “What?” he snapped, his eyes blazing as his voice took on a strange sharp edge, somehow menacing and echoing of ‘detective prince’ all at once. “You aren’t going to manhandle my hair into a mess this time? Seems awfully <em> half-done </em>of you.”</p><p>Akira smirked, his relief at the indirect acknowledgement warm and heavy between his ribs. “Too similar to my style,” he said, motioning towards his curls. “You should just keep your hood up when you’re out, like I do.”</p><p>Akechi’s only response was a twisted grimace, and he kept glaring at Akira, but there was something pointedly searching about the look now.</p><p>“I don’t know what you two are talking about, but you’ll look like a pair of punks if you do that!” Morgana cried, sounding like he wasn’t sure if he should speak up at all. But Akira took the reminder of his presence as a queue to turn and head for the stairs.</p><p>“Let’s go.”</p><p>No one answered him, but he heard Akechi huff while Morgana rushed to catch up and jump into Akira’s bag just as he went to grab it off the table and descend the stairs.</p><p>Futaba was there, sitting at the counter and wolfing her way through a plate of curry as Sojiro put together the daily house blend. She still seemed half-asleep, despite her speedy eating, and her glance in Akira’s direction was noticeably unfocused. <em> “Hey,” </em> she said, the promise of a yawn on her tongue. But it never came. Her gaze slipped over his shoulder, and she blinked a few times… then choked. Covered her mouth and coughed and swallowed back some presumed curry to let out a loud, snorting laugh that sounded completely blindsided and delighted and appalled. </p><p>Akira turned and grabbed Akechi’s hood as he attempted a tactical retreat upstairs. The older teen tripped at the hold, then caught himself and glared back at Akira. He was wearing the glasses.</p><p>“That’s, uh–” Sojiro stared at Akechi like he was struggling to process the sight. Eventually he gave up on trying and returned to pouring coffee into a dispenser. “That’s definitely a look.”</p><p>Futaba found the breath to give a loud <em> whoop </em> as Akechi violently tugged the hood from Akira’s fingers. <em> “Not </em> my idea, I– I assure you,” he said, sliding from downright feral to perfect prince in the matter of a few words. At least, with his voice. His face continued to look murderous and faintly constipated. </p><p>He wasn’t running, though, and Akira deemed it safe to take his eyes off of him and turn to Sojiro. “We’ll be going now, but we’ll stop by before heading to the station. This first trip should be short.” </p><p>“I think I have changed my mind, I see no reason to–” Akechi tried to say, but he couldn’t even get the sentence out before Futaba recovered and waved at them both.</p><p>“Wait! Wait! <em> Wait wait wait– </em> Stay <em> right there!” </em> she yelled, pointing at them both with a vicious look – impressive, given the tears still on her face – before turning and diving across the room, rushing out the front door.</p><p>“Watch the–!” Sojiro cried, only to flinch as the door inevitably slammed into the frame with a loud <em>thump</em> and <em>CLANG!</em> <em>“Tch,</em> that girl.” </p><p>“Hey!” Akira flinched himself and looked down at Morgana, who was halfway out of the bag and digging his claws into his forearm. “What do you mean, we’ll be right back? And by ‘first trip’?! I thought we weren’t coming back until we had the treasure!”</p><p>“I need to come back,” Akira explained, prying tiny needles from his sleeve as carefully as he could. “I don’t want to take the loot to the clinic. There’s too much of it this time.”</p><p>“Excuse me, <em> loot?” </em></p><p>Akira looked up to see Sojiro staring at him with that mix of judgment and terror that had become commonplace in the last month. The feeling echoed through Akira and he blanked his face out in reaction, taking a quick glance back at Akechi.</p><p>He was still right behind him, but his eyes were on the attic steps, narrowed and glinting with the grinding turn of thoughts and presumed escape plans. </p><p>Akira turned back to Sojiro. “Thief term,” he said, then made a quick beeline for the door. “We’ll meet Futaba on our way out.” </p><p>Sojiro made a wordless, tired noise that told Akira yes, he <em> did </em> regret asking. And Akira embraced that reluctance as he opened the door and looked back at Akechi. “You coming?”</p><p>Akechi grimaced in answer, but apparently he hadn’t been fast enough with his plans. Frowning, he followed after him.</p><p>Akira held the door open for him as he looked back at Sojiro. “We’ll be right back, Boss.”</p><p><em> “Sure, </em> kid. Sure.”</p><p>They made it to the end of the block before Futaba came bursting around the corner. She slammed into Akira, making him cough from the full body slam to the ribs, but she bounced right off and landed smack dab in front of Akechi. “Here!” she said, and before Akira could even recover his breath, Futaba had yanked Akechi’s hood down and slammed something onto his head. </p><p>Even Akira had to wince from the violence of the action, but when he actually saw what Futaba had done, his expression blanked out into instant, defensive nothing. </p><p>Futaba, on the other hand, took one look at her efforts, and shook, a tiny evil little laugh rising out of her like a whistle from a teapot.</p><p>Akechi, who could not <em> possibly </em> have seen the giant golden HERO printed on his new ballcap, stared through Futaba and her laughter like he could not believe the speed bump that had popped up in his way.</p><p>Akira pulled Futaba sideways before his dashing companion decided to bulldoze right over her. “Did that come from your closet?”</p><p><em> “Heeheehee, yeah! </em> I was planning to put it on a display, but never got around to– <em> How’d you know, haha– </em> He looks like a rhythm game protag– <em> How’d you know, </em> Akira?!”</p><p>“I remember seeing it when I cleaned your room.”</p><p>“Are you guys crazy?” came a tiny, hissing voice, and Akira didn’t have to look down to know Morgana was eyeing Akechi from the opening in his bag. The not-cat didn’t dare say more, though.</p><p>Akira pushed Futaba along with a hand on the small of her back. “Go finish your curry.”</p><p><em> “Heeheeheeheehee– </em> Yes, <em> sir!” </em> And with a chirp she was off, dashing back to the cafe with a spring in her step and a hum on her tongue, like she hadn’t just poked a bear with a live grenade. </p><p>Except, Akira thought he saw her hands shaking before she clutched them behind her back. And if she were truly unconcerned, she would have walked at her usual slow pace, not rushed off at a skip.</p><p>Still striving to face her fears, huh?</p><p>…Akira side-eyed Akechi, and saw he had taken the black cap off. He was staring at the printed words, and Akira’s throat grew tight at the tense, unreadable expression on his face. Akira knew Futaba meant nothing by the joke – nothing cruel, anyways – but he couldn’t help but wonder what Akechi thought of it. What it made him feel, if anything. </p><p>But Akira didn’t ask. He kept his mouth shut, waiting for Akechi to speak first. </p><p>When he did, his words were slow, and shockingly uncertain. “They seem… different now.” He looked up, and must have seen the confusion on Akira’s face, because he clarified, “Sakura– Futaba-san, that is. And the others. Something about all of them has seemed different since yesterday.”</p><p>Akira continued to let his confusion show, because he sincerely did not see… but he <em> could </em> see, once he stopped to consider it. And the sole explanation was sweet. And he knew he hadn’t smiled, but something about his face must have shown the sentiment, because that open, suspicious frown was back on Akechi’s face, and <em> why </em> was Akechi talking about <em> them </em> changing? <em> He </em> was the one who had… Well. “They aren’t pretending anymore.”</p><p>Akechi looked more baffled, and thus frustrated, but like all of Akira’s friends, Morgana was happy to pop out and fill in the blanks when Akira stopped talking. “That’s right! We had to act around you before! Not that we <em> weren’t </em> ourselves, in a sense, but it was bad enough for everyone when you were just investigating us. Once we knew what you were up to, we had to keep the plan in mind at all times, or you’d have suspected us suspecting you! So this is the first time we’ve all had nothing to hide!”</p><p>Akechi’s stormy expression flickered, shifting between displeased and thoughtful until he finally turned away. He put the cap back on with a determined <em> ‘fine then’ </em> sort of air, one more suited for walking into a battle than donning a hat. </p><p>Akira <em> did </em> smile a bit then, but he lost the faint expression when Morgana went for his arm again. “But <em> hey! </em> What do you mean by <em> ‘they’? </em> You’re a part of this too, you know!”</p><p>“Not really.” He looked up and found Akechi half-turned in his direction. The sun was catching on Akira’s glasses, obscuring any clear look at Akechi’s expression, but Akira looked straight into that half-seen face and said, “Even when we were lying–” Even when they hid intentions and suspicions and pain and– “We were ‘completely honest’ about how we felt, right?”</p><p>Akechi visibly startled, then met his gaze properly, no fronts, no glare on the lenses to hide his shock and then the fire in his eyes, hot and affronted and ready to bite.</p><p>There was something amazing about that, that rage out in the open for all the world to see.</p><p>Akira felt Morgana start and dive for cover in the bag. </p><p>…Whatever Akechi thought, though, it folded in on itself, the moment passing without ever truly solidifying. It left Akechi glowering at the road, and Akira relaxing back into blankness, his own disappointment a distant, ignored thing. He wasn’t even sure what he had expected.</p><p>But Akechi didn’t let the silence linger. His frown smoothed out as some thought struck him, and he said, “You all knew from the start then?” He glared questions at Akira, his gaze nothing but the detective now, sans the prince. “You <em> truly </em> knew that I was lying to you? With certainty? Just when and how exactly did you figure that out?”</p><p>
  <em> Ah. </em>
</p><p>Akira wasn’t even sure how he felt about that question, if he wanted to smile at the truth or frown at the memory of knowing, the memory of betrayal already laid on the tracks. The conflict of it kept him blank until Morgana dared to pop out again and decide the matter for himself. “We all worried about your investigation into us, but the others didn’t suspect you of anything beyond that until after the school festival.” Morgana couldn’t look too smug in that form, but boy did he try. <em> “This guy </em> and I though, <em> we </em> knew you were suspicious from the start! Your lies at the festival just sealed the deal!”</p><p><em> And </em> another rare expression. While Akira would bet his loaned out specs Akechi didn’t know it, the expression behind those glasses was nothing but pure, undiluted shock. <em> “…How?” </em></p><p>…Akira <em> could </em> answer, technically. There was no reason not to, and between Morgana’s words and his own intelligence, Akechi would probably piece it together anyways. So, why not just lay the cards on the table?</p><p>Except, where was the fun in that?</p><p>Akira didn’t reply. Just smirked.</p><p>Morgana snickered, presumably catching his expression, and anger flashed through Akechi’s shock. Akira took that as his queue and sidestepped him before Akechi could speak. “Come on,” he said, walking down the road. “It’s just two blocks over.”</p><p>There was no response, and he didn’t hear Akechi following at first. But Akira didn’t stall or look back, and when he opened the clinic door, Akechi was right there, ready to walk through.</p><p>Akira’s smirk lingered as he followed him inside.</p>
<hr/><p>“Long time no see,” Takemi said, smiling as she looked up from the service window and saw Akira walk in. “Finally decided to show your face again?”</p><p>“Hey, Takemi-sensei,” Akira said, quietly amused as he watched the doctor eye Akechi. Akira had his back to the other teen, but he assumed he was still hovering by the door, barely inside the lobby. “Were you still worried about me? You could have just stopped by the cafe. Boss misses you.”</p><p>Takemi gave a soft huff, coming off as dismissive, but Akira could see the satisfaction in her smile. “Thanks to a certain <em> someone, </em> I’ve been rather busy here. I’ve had to go in-house for my caffeine intake.” She motioned over her shoulder towards a cheap looking coffee maker on a back desk, but never actually took her eyes off Akechi. “Who’s the new kid?”</p><p>“A teammate.” There was a sharp shift of heels on the linoleum, but Akira didn’t look back. “I wanted him to know about you and this place, just in case.”</p><p>The doctor’s dark lips thinned, and she glared at him with that frosted warning only she could manage. “He <em> better </em> not have a need to use that knowledge, unless he’s just handling a pickup for you.”</p><p>“Just a precaution.”</p><p>Takemi seemed far from convinced. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain broadcast I caught last night that’s all over the news now, would it?” </p><p>Akira gave a noncommittal shrug in reply, but let the thrill of secrets show in his face, prompting a reluctant smile to pull at Takemi’s frown. </p><p>She focused on Akechi again before it could take hold. “So, what’s your name?”</p><p>Akira followed the doctor’s gaze and considered the other teen alongside her. Akechi had seemed shocked, which was no shock, but at their combined scrutiny his expression tensed and caught and flickered, and after a heartbeat he tossed a checking look at <em> him, </em> Akira. Who just blinked, wondering in a detached way if Akechi would dare.</p><p>Of course he would. Though Akira was merely curious, Akechi must have read a challenge in his eyes, and his own gaze hardened as he looked back at Takemi. “Akechi Goro.”</p><p>Takemi laughed. “Gutsy of you to say so, considering who you’re following around. I’d be curious to hear how <em> that </em> happened.” </p><p>She definitely tossed that last thought at <em> him, </em> but Akira shrugged noncommittally again, too busy watching disbelief slide back over Akechi like a tide to meet the doctor’s gaze. </p><p>Takemi gave a little scoff and stood. “Fine fine, keep your secrets. So, what did you want today?”</p><p>Akira side-eyed her, then turned back completely when he saw Takemi opening a familiar cabinet. “A lot,” he warned, and proceeded to list a <em> lot. </em> “Ten Rejuvenating Fours, three Renew-Alls, five Nohor-Ms and Relax Gels and Alert Capsules– Did you get Kajaclear-R back in stock?”</p><p>“Just three of them.” </p><p>“I'll take all three, plus a couple of Magic Ointments and Physical Ointments. Five Life Ointments if you have them, and–” He cut off his spiel to glance at Akechi. “Do you still have that adhesive patch I gave you before?” Before their run through the high limit floor of Sae’s palace? Before everything?</p><p>Akechi didn’t respond at first, seemingly caught in some sort of daze as he stared at the medicines over Takemi’s shoulder. But eventually he noticed the silence and Akira’s stare and jerked himself back into focus. “Yes. I do.”</p><p>“Good, that thing is expensive.” Akira turned back, relaxing into an easy regard as he refocused on Takemi. “I’ll stop there, sensei.”</p><p>“How conservative of you,” she teased, tossing the last of the medicine into a large plastic bag and tying the handles together before passing it through the window. The thing was near bursting and Akira simply held it – not wanting to smush Morgana by adding it to his bag unsorted – as Takemi asked, “Why the insane restock? Did you actually run through everything you got just two weeks ago?” </p><p>“Pretty much.” Two weeks, two palaces, a request run through Mementos, and a troubling showdown with a rival who just couldn’t accept defeat… Akira didn’t even want to consider how many heals and item buffs they’d run through during that fight, and he honestly didn’t know. He’d been too distracted at the time to bother with trivial matters like dwindling stock until his pockets were actually empty. Not that that would be an issue again anytime soon. Akira held up the bag with a nod. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.” </p><p>“Naturally,” Takemi answered, her flat stare saying she caught the pun Akira tried to slide through, and wasn’t amused. But she soon softened, and broke their gaze to look at Akechi over Akira’s shoulder. “You look after him, you hear? I envy you, getting to help him out properly. All I can do is grant him infinite coupons.”</p><p>Akira’s chest went tight, the feeling creeping up his throat until he couldn’t feel his tongue. He felt– no, he felt nothing, swallowing until that tight ball of emotion unraveled and went away. He smiled, consciously thinking ‘don’t turn around’. “As I said, you <em> do </em> help.”</p><p>Takemi refocused on him, and Akira found the will to breathe easy again when he saw no knowing or suspicion in her gaze. Just gratitude, and fondness, and an echo of the happiness he’d been lucky enough to help her find. </p><p>Then she opened the cash drawer. “That will be eight hundred eleven thousand, and two hundred yen.”</p><p>Akira blanched.</p>
<hr/><p>“Why did you spend so much?!” Morgana cried, his paws pushing into Akira’s elbow as he walked out of the clinic, his eyes on the few coins left in his palm. “Couldn’t you have skipped some of the ointments? Haru-chan can handle those moves just fine, and now you don’t even have enough for food or train tickets!”</p><p>“I want options. Letting Haru or anyone on the team be the only way out of a fight could put them and all of us at risk.” Akira pocketed the money, leaving his hands in his pockets, the medicine bag dangling from his wrist. “My school pass will get us to Shibuya. We’ll just have to sell the palace loot, like I said.” </p><p>“You had <em> better </em> hope Iwai didn’t have to close the shop for some reason, then!”</p><p>“Not likely.”</p><p>“That doctor.” Akechi. Akira turned around to look at him properly for the first time since leaving the clinic. He hadn’t expected anything – or had he? – but there was something alarming, yet not surprising at all about the disquiet in Akechi’s eyes, buried emphatically beneath frowns and accusations. “She knows who you are.”</p><p><em> Ah. </em> Akira relaxed into the question. “That’s right.” </p><p>“You told her.”</p><p>“No, she figured it out on her own.” And that should be embarrassing to admit, as the leader of the thieves. Humiliating even, but the sheer incredulity on Akechi’s face was worth it, so much so that Akira felt no qualms about adding, “Seems to happen a lot.”</p><p><em> “What–” </em> </p><p>“She’s known for a couple of months now, and kept our secret, even when there was a reward out on our heads,” he went on, consciously pressing back a smile at Akechi’s speechless expression. “She’s trustworthy, so if you do end up in a pinch, remember you and the team can rely on her.”</p><p>Akechi didn’t respond, and didn’t seem to be listening anymore, though Akira knew he must be taking in every detail with zeal. His focus was just turned inward, his gaze on nothing as he processed likely a thousand things per second.</p><p>Akira allowed him maybe two or three before turning and making for the cafe again. </p><p>Again, Akechi was right at Akira’s heel by the time he reached the door.</p>
<hr/><p>The return to LeBlanc was quick, marked by nothing but a wry inquiry from Sojiro and a quick debate with Futaba about going to Nagatacho alone. She was rather unsure about the trip, but ultimately refused Akira’s offers to join their run to Shibuya, or to leave Morgana with her, saying that <em> Akira </em> needed the cat (‘I’m not a cat!’) to look after <em> him. </em> She stated so with some very pointed looks at Akechi, who was developing a sorry habit of hovering near doors and not saying anything, but Akira ignored it and left them to their mutual tension long enough to go upstairs, pack up the medicine, gather the loot, sort everything into disposable bags, and come down again to push half of it into Akechi’s hands.</p><p>Then they left.</p><p>The trip into the city was equally tense, yet uneventful, the packed train offering no seats or room for conversation. By the time they were on Central Street, all Akira could focus on was supporting the weight of the bags, and keeping an eye on Akechi, trailing him through the crowds with his chin down to hide his face. A wise move, and expected, but there was still something irritating about seeing the quiet dodging in action, seeing Akechi Goro with his head down like that, but Akira marked the reaction as foolish (‘Idiotic’) and tossed back a, “It’s not far. This way.”</p><p>Akechi didn’t answer, and Akira chose not to think about it. It was only minutes anyway before they were inside Untouchable, and the sight of that old rough face sucking on a lollipop was a shocking relief. Iwai grinned as they dropped the bags on his counter. <em> “Hey.” </em> He folded up his magazine and, miracle of miracles, sat upright. “Where have <em> you </em> been? I was starting to wonder if I dreamt up that text.”</p><p>“What, you couldn’t check it?” Akira slipped into a smirk and tart tone like they were a pair of comfortable old shoes. “Did you forget how to work your phone again?”</p><p><em> “Cute, </em> kid.” Iwai chuckled a bit, then let his gaze slide from him to the other teen in his shop. His own smirk fell. “Who’s this? One of your ‘friends’?”</p><p>“Something like that.” Akira turned to see Akechi considering them. Considering both of them, because if anything, Akechi seemed more uncertain of Akira than the shop owner. But when Akira arched a brow at him in return, Akechi broke their gaze and bowed briefly to Iwai.</p><p>“Good morning,” he said, and nothing else, eyeing both of them again with sharp eyes like he was waiting for something. A queue, perhaps, for how to act. The Detective Prince wasn’t supposed to be there, after all, and the Akechi of yesterday and that morning seemed uncomfortable with small talk. Or like he just couldn’t be bothered with it. </p><p>Akira let it slide, bypassing introductions to motion at the bags on the counter, unzipped to show a peek of their contents. “Can you cover this much?”</p><p>“Depends. What sort of junk did you bring me this time?” </p><p>“If you don’t want it, just say so.” </p><p><em> “Don’t </em> play coy with me, Kurusu. You and I both know you’ve got nowhere else to take this.”</p><p>“Nothing a net search for a half-decent pawn shop can't fix.”</p><p>“Really? Seems to me like you need this shit off your hands fast.”</p><p>“Even including five minutes to search, and whatever time it takes to get there, they’d probably still be faster than you.” </p><p>Iwai barked a laugh, his expression so proud that Akira cracked a smile. “Missed you, Kurusu. <em> Yeah, </em> it should be fine. Just give me a second to sort through it all. I just made a fresh deal last night, so I should have the cash.”</p><p>Akira arched a brow behind his bangs, picking humor over alarm. “‘New deal’? Do I need to pull your ass out of the fire again?”</p><p>Iwai looked like he wanted to laugh again. <em> “Nah, </em> I’ve got Tsuda playing defense now, it’s fine. The only thing I’m worried about right now is when you’re actually gonna show up for dinner with me and Kaoru.”</p><p>Akira’s front softened, but he covered it with a shrug. “Whenever you like, if you’re paying.” He couldn’t help but add a more serious response when Iwai stopped laughing, though. “Soon. As soon as this current mess is cleared up, I’m game. Anytime.” </p><p>“Good to know.” Iwai matched his sheepish fondness, then refocused on Akechi, who Akira belatedly realized was staring at <em> him </em> like he had surprised him somehow. It was such an open display of shock, too, Akira couldn’t imagine what– “You’re a part of this ‘mess’, I take it? Kurusu wouldn’t talk so openly in front of you if you weren’t.”</p><p>Akechi’s expression grew tight, then suddenly he was all composure again, his gaze piercing as he eyed the gun shop owner. “I suppose I am.”</p><p>Iwai gave a thoughtful hum, meeting Akechi look for look… before shrugging and relaxing out of the little standoff with a smirk. “Sure. It’s still a shock to see Akechi Goro hanging out in <em> this guy’s </em> shadow.” </p><p>Akechi and Akira both tensed at the name-drop, the latter taking a compulsive look around the shop. No one else there to hear. The shop was empty, and Akira <em> knew that. </em> He wouldn’t have said half the things he had if he didn’t. But, still– </p><p>“Calm down,” Iwai said, speaking to Akechi but turning his smirk briefly on Akira. “I’m not going to out you or post any ‘celebrity sightings’ or whatever. Any friend of his is welcome here, and if that of all people includes <em> you? </em> I can keep a secret. You just tell me if you need anything, alright?”</p><p>Akira relaxed, allowing a proper smile to shine through. Akechi didn’t seem even close to recovering enough to respond, merely shifted from alarm to confusion, so Akira answered for him, “Thanks, Iwai.”</p><p>Iwai shook his head, clearly amused as he finally opened the first bag. “Yeah yeah, just let me sort through this mess, then I’ll pay you so I can get you out of my– Is that a <em> disco ball?” </em></p>
<hr/><p>After a lot of counting, shrugging off piles of high quality jewels, and confirming that <em> yes, </em> there were <em> three </em> mirror balls inside the bag, not one, the two boys were back out in the alleyway. “You might have been right,” Akira said, thumbing once more through the yen Iwai had given him. He’d regained at least a quarter of what he’d spent at the clinic. “The disguise might not be enough. It could just be Takemi-sensei and Iwai associate you with me from the old investigation, but if they recognized you, others might, too.”</p><p>There was no response, so Akira looked back. Akechi was a few paces behind him, barely out of the way of the shop door, and he was frowning at the ground like he was trying to figure something out. And not in a ‘detective’ way, a frustrated way, like whatever he was considering <em> didn’t make sense. </em> It was no normal Akechi face, but something of it reminded Akira of surprise billiard victories and unexpected acceptance in the bowels of a cruise ship or the dark room of a closed cafe. So he waited, and wasn’t particularly surprised when Akechi asked, in the most clipped of tones, “How many?”</p><p>That didn’t mean the question made sense, though. “What?”</p><p>Akechi looked up, impatience scratching at his face. “How many know?”</p><p><em> …Ah. </em> Akira should have expected that.</p><p>And still the question made him smile, and that was apparently too much, because that whisper of rage cracked open and poured over Akechi’s face, and <em> no, </em> perhaps Akechi <em> didn’t </em> need a better disguise. If he would just toss the empty smiles and blank covers and show <em> that </em> face out on the street– <em> “How many </em> people have been <em> walking around <b>knowing</b> </em> who you were this whole–”</p><p>“Outside of the team?” Akira interrupted, enjoying the way Akechi grit his teeth against slamming over him and finishing the demand. Even angry, curiosity overrode all. Akechi didn’t want to lose the chance at an answer, if Akira was willing to give it. It was endearing, familiar, but Akira waved off the sentiment to consider. He didn’t actually know the answer, off the top of his head. <em> Takemi, Iwai, Ohya, Yoshida… </em> If Akira counted Kaoru, and he wasn’t sure if he should, then– “Fifteen? No, sixteen. If you count Boss and Niijima Sae, that is.” That sounded right, when he reconsidered all of the people he’d connected to in the last year. But when he refocused on Akechi, Akira found nothing but an incredulous stare. A stare that remained steady as Akira filled the silence. “Though, three of those are special cases, and I wasn’t counting anyone on your side of things, who might have my name on file now. Or– your old side, I guess. I don’t know those numbers.”</p><p>Akechi gave a twitch like he was about to snap, stilled, then <em> did </em> snap. “How is that even– Have you even <em> attempted </em> to hide the truth from the people around you?!” ‘From anyone <em> besides me?!’ </em> seemed to be the unsaid complaint.</p><p>Akira indulged in the assumption, but nodded. “I have. But everyone I’m counting has been a victim to someone, and it’s hard to stay anonymous when their abusers have a change of heart after I get involved.” </p><p>“You <em> could </em> have tried being <em> a little more vague </em> when you asked for names! Some of them you could have just researched yourself!”</p><p>Akira glanced down to see Morgana frowning up at him from the bag, his blue eyes narrowed in judgment. Just couldn’t pass up the opening, could he? “Maybe in hindsight, yeah,” Akira admitted. “But I couldn’t miss the chances I had.” </p><p>Morgana looked like he would heartily disagree, and a side glance at Akechi said Akira could expect some sort of complaint from that corner, too. And rather than wait for the pincer attack, he looked past him to the end of the alley.</p><p>Speaking of special cases, Caroline was there, sitting atop the glowing barred door. Akira had passed right by her before, since he had no cash, and he could easily visit the room later from Shido’s palace. </p><p>But, since it was so <em> convenient– </em></p><p>“Here.” Morgana gave a sharp <em> reow </em> and Akechi coughed through a rough ‘W-what’ as Akira pushed the Mona bag into his arms, not waiting for the boy or not-cat to recover before walking away. “Hold that a second.”</p><p>“Why would I– <em> Kurusu-kun!” </em></p><p>Akira ignored the call, his hands in his pockets and his eyes up on Caroline, ass already tense in anticipation of a sharp transition. But the girl didn’t jump down immediately. Her usual frown was in place, but her yellow eyes were narrower than usual, her lips thinner. There was an odd worry on her face, and it made Akira pause, and wonder what could possibly be–</p><p>Just as he thought to ask, the girl recovered, and scowled. Jumped down behind him.</p><p>He should have kept his butt clenched.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next Chapter Keywords: Blue. Lunch. Heart.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Kurusu-kun. <em> Kurusu-kun!” </em></p><p>“Hey!! I know you like standing there and zoning out, but to go and leave me with <em> him–”  </em></p><p>Akira blinked, and the world came back into focus, revealing Akechi and Morgana – still peeking out of the bag Akechi held – both glaring at him with matching confusion. But <em> Akechi’s </em> alarm faded as they locked eyes, leaving behind pure irritation. “Well? What were you doing?” </p><p>“Oh.” Akira glanced at the door glowing blue just behind him, the bars shut. Caroline wasn’t there. “Was I doing something?”</p><p>“You were just standing there, staring at nothing. The cat said you–”</p><p><em> “I am not a cat!” </em> </p><p>“–Do that, but it has been more than ten minutes. What are you waiting to– …Where did those come from?” </p><p>Akira looked back, saw Akechi looking down, and followed his gaze. He already knew what he would find, what he was holding, but being reminded of it was grounding, reminded him what was going on and where he was. And with that in mind, he should be holding them out in the open like that. “Could you give me my bag? I didn’t think this through when I left Morgana with you.”</p><p><em> “Again, why </em> did you have to– <em> reow!” </em> </p><p>Morgana’s complaints were cut off as Akechi simply dropped the bag, letting it fall at their feet. The impact jostled the not-cat loose and he rushed out to climb Akira like a beanpole, making him flinch at each tiny pinprick of pain. <em> (Why </em> was he the one being punished?) Once Morgana reached his shoulder, though, Akira found the freedom to relax and gesture with the items he held. “I got new weapons, including one for you.” </p><p>Mona climbed around to the opposite shoulder to get a better look at the large red slingshot Akira referred to, giving an amazed little sound at the sight. <em> “Woah… </em> just how much stronger is that thing? Does it have any perks?”</p><p>Akira didn’t answer, just grinning satisfied at his curiosity before refocusing on Akechi. “You too.”</p><p>Akechi didn’t share Morgana’s easy distraction, though, and just frowned harder as Akira shifted his armload and held out pistol, a long black and red one Akira had obtained thanks to a fusion inspired by a certain therapist. Morgana dug into his shoulder sharply at the sight, making Akira flinch again, but it was <em> fine. </em> It was just a model, if a really realistic one.</p><p>Maybe a little too real, since even Akechi tensed looking at it, stiff and reluctant about it as he accepted the weapon. He had to know it wasn’t real. Iwai had said once that the weight wasn’t the same as the real thing, and Akechi had to know that. How could he <em> not? </em> And yet, he kept staring at the pistol, holding it still for so long that Akira glanced down the alley to make sure no one was looking. No one was, so he searched the other teen’s face again. It was pale, his expression slack. He looked almost– “Akechi?” </p><p>Two heartbeats, then Akechi met Akira’s eye, alarm flashing in technicolor across his eyes before it fell behind a layer of distaste.</p><p>It had been there, though, and Akira bit back the urge to chase it, confront it, by talking on. “It’s a model. If you don’t want to carry it, or think you can’t hide it, I can stick it in my bag with the others until we get to the palace.” </p><p>Akechi looked back down at the weapon, turning it wordlessly in his hand before smoothly offering it back to Akira by the hilt. “Where did they come from?” he asked, eyeing him with a pointed precision that made Akira think of bugs pinned to a clipboard. “You did not purchase anything in the shop, nor take anything from the owner, save for cash. I was beside you the entire time.” </p><p>Akira grinned, tickled by the question, and took back the gun, shuffling his armload so the added weight didn’t prompt him to drop it all. “No, I didn’t. I got these from the Metaverse– Though, not on my own. <em> You </em> helped me get this one, actually.” He picked out his own new gun and waved it slightly, near his waist where it shouldn’t draw the attention of anyone passing the alley. </p><p>Akechi looked more affronted than confused by the claim, and his eyes were incredulous as they caught and stayed on the slim golden pistol. </p><p>Akira had to admit the little wings on it were a little much, but he liked them. </p><p>Akechi obviously had questions, but he took his time chewing over them, so Akira took the opening to bend down and unzip his bag. As he slid the weapons inside, Morgana jumped off of his shoulder to land on the ground beside him. “Who’s the last gun for?”</p><p>“Yusuke. I lucked out on that find. By the way, I used up half the money.”</p><p>
  <em> “What?!” </em>
</p><p>“It’s fine. It’s what I needed it for.”</p><p>“And what exactly is <em>‘it’?” </em> Akechi jumped in, finally finding his question. Akira’s hands stalled on the zipper as he looked up into an unblinking crimson brown stare. Akechi looked suspicious, even fed up. <em> And </em> in truth, Akira couldn’t blame him. He had been dragging him through quite a few shocks that morning. Fun as it had been, Akechi was probably at his limit.</p><p>Akira zipped the bag half-shut and motioned with his chin for Morgana to jump in, turning back to Akechi as the not-cat followed suit. “It’s hard to explain. I don’t know how it works either, but it’s related to my powers. The same thing that allows me to absorb Persona into my mask and use ones we never run into in the Metaverse.” </p><p>Akechi’s eyes widened a bit, then narrowed to near shut, thoughts bright and swimming within them. It reminded Akira of that first day inside Sae’s palace, the way he had watched them all in their fights, <em> especially </em> him. Crow had prodded a little at the time, about the hold ups and Joker’s menagerie of summons, but the team brushed it all off as ‘that’s just Joker!’ and Crow never pressed the matter further, likely not wanting to risk his cover by insisting. But <em> now, </em> he looked ready to dig his heels in and demand the truth point blank.</p><p>Akira shook his head before he could start a pointless argument by trying. “I mean it. I don’t know how it works. I could describe what happens, but I don’t know how or why, and you know that place. It doesn’t have to follow logic. It just… is.” And it wasn’t like he could prove any of the ‘what’ either. Not if Akechi couldn’t see the door.</p><p>…Of course, even if Akira <em> could </em> explain or prove any of it, he wouldn’t. He didn’t want Akechi anywhere near that room. (Not now.)</p><p>Akechi must at least believe him, though, because his frown was more dissatisfied than suspicious. </p><p>Akira could feel blue eyes on him, though, and the burn of familiar worry. </p><p>He ignored it, sliding the bag strap over his shoulder and standing up, facing Akechi. “You want to get lunch?”</p><p>Akechi’s face went blank, then a new furrow wrinkled his brow. “What?”</p><p>“Lunch. Do you want some?”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I’m hungry,” Akira said, knowing that wasn’t what Akechi meant. ‘Why would you want to do such a basic, normal thing with <em> me’ </em> was what he meant, and that wasn’t a question for a Shibuya alleyway, or maybe anywhere. </p><p>Akira stared through Akechi’s growing glare, impervious to its heat, until Akechi looked away and dismissed him (gave up) with faint sigh. “Fine. If that is what you want, I have followed you this far.”</p><p>Akira could take that as a yes. </p><p>“Follow me.” He side-stepped Akechi and started the short trek to the spot he had in mind. </p><p>It was only a heartbeat away, but that was still enough time for Morgana to stick his head out of the bag and hiss up at him, <em> “Hey, </em> are you alright? You seem kind of…” </p><p>Kind of what, he didn’t say, but Akira grit his teeth against a grimace anyways. He didn’t answer, and Morgana didn’t press him, but the reminder was enough to bring <em> it </em> back to mind. Akira had tried to forget it, and the disorientation of exiting the Velvet Room had made it fairly easy to dismiss in the moment, but in truth he couldn’t forget that conversation.</p><p><em> “Before you leave,” Igor said, just as Akira finished wrapping up a rushed round of executions and summoning, having already pulled Arsene out of confinement and conjured an armful of weapons. “I must commend you for your... unexpected success. You have disrupted the desire for destruction and reformation with your own example of acceptance.” The long-nosed master pressed his steepled fingers together a little tighter, his bulging eyes unblinking as always as he stared into Akira. “However, you walk a dangerous path by inviting </em> that one <em> to your side. Do you see that?” </em></p><p><em> Akira stared back, meaning slow to seep in, and when it did… </em> “What?” <em> Igor’s words were always cryptic at best, but considering the situation, the only person he could possibly mean… Was he truly talking about </em> Akechi? </p><p>
  <em> “Silence, Inmate!” The electric ‘CLANG’ that always made Akira jump rang through the room, accompanied by Caroline’s cry as she glared up at him with her one eye. “Can you not understand what our master asks of you?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well, technically? Yes. It wouldn’t be the first time Igor brought Akechi up, but it didn’t make it any less surprising, and Akira struggled to even think about it as he looked down at Caroline and took in her and Justine’s expressions. They were as stern and demanding as always, but that same distress he thought he saw at the gate was still there, on both of their faces, constant and badly suppressed. What was–  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Your principles,” Igor went on, demanding Akira’s attention with his low, slow voice. “Your definitions of justice. They are incompatible. Conflict is inevitable.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> …Yup, that was definitely Akechi. And knowing that did nothing for Akira’s confusion, the tension that kept him silent until he could swallow and force out an even, “I’m fine with that.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Is that so?” Igor’s eyes flashed, and he grinned, like he knew how blind and thoughtless that claim was. “Be that as it may, I must warn you that you once again court ruin by making such a choice. It would be too tragic to allow a difference of principle to lead you astray now, at the precipice of success. If you continue to invite such confusion into your path, your fate will be… beyond the salvation of our aid.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Akira still didn’t get it, but he understood enough. Enough to frown and stare right back at him. “Akechi is a person, not a principle. We can decide for ourselves where our path leads.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Igor’s eyes grew impossibly wider, and Akira couldn’t tell if he was impressed or infuriated. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The twins though were clearly appalled. “Inmate! You must not say something so impertinent!” Caroline cried, while beside her Justine tried for a rickety calm. “Our master offers you his guidance for your own sake. Do not dismiss the warnings he gives you.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So they said, but the only ‘conflict’ Akira could see was in Justine’s eye, and Caroline’s as well. He glanced at each of them in turn, then turned away, walking to the door at the back of the cell. “Thanks for the fusions,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Shoot me a call if you want to go visit somewhere new. I’ll bring a new Persona for confinement soon.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Inmate!!” </em>
</p><p>And he left.</p><p>The exchange haunted Akira as he led the way through the crowd, keeping his head down until he reached the steps of the diner. Once he climbed them the sunny day gave way to dim warm light, and some of the tension fell out of his shoulders, feeling like he had put some distance between himself and that blue door. It was busy inside, a constant hum of chatter and utensils filling the air, but that was reassuring to Akira, and he blessed his luck when he saw an empty booth in a back corner of the room.</p><p>Really, how could he consider his fate ‘beyond salvation’ with luck like <em> that? </em></p><p>…No. Akira wouldn’t think about that. He set the thought aside <em> (think about it later, not important now, can’t do anything about it </em> <b> <em>now–)</em> </b> and crossed the room, sliding into the side of the booth that hugged the wall and pushing the call button as Akechi slid in across from him, pinning a glare on the diner entrance through the cover of his glasses and hood. “Is this your idea of laying low?”</p><p>“Seemed like a nice balance of low-key and crowded.” Akechi frowned, like he was confused by the claim, but he didn’t look at Akira. Not until he added, “Besides, no one would expect to catch you in a place like this, would they?”</p><p>Akechi peered at him through lenses and narrowed eyes, like he was searching for some jab in the question. He couldn’t find one, because there <em> was </em> none, and soon he gave up and refocused on the crowd. “I suppose most of the room won’t be able to see my face from this spot.”</p><p>“That’s why I picked it.” </p><p>A waitress came by before Akechi could respond, taking their orders with a distracted smile and as much speed as possible. </p><p>And that suited Akira just fine, but when he read alarm and then relief in Akechi’s posture at the lady’s departure, he couldn’t help but say, “Relax. I know you’re recognizable, but it’s not like someone should be looking for you here.” Or anywhere, quite possibly. Not yet. Akira had no idea how often Akechi checked in with Shido (Futaba said she caught no pattern to the calls) but it hadn’t even been a full day yet, and the worst Akechi had done so far was skip a few hours of school. Even his interviews were usually in the evening, right? So the only reason someone would be already looking for him was– </p><p>“You should have waited to send that broadcast,” Akechi said, still frowning at the diner door. “Showing yourself like that proved that my trap was a failure, or worse, that I was lying and that I betrayed– <em> him </em> to help you.”</p><p>“Not so far from the truth,” Akira breezed, but Akechi snapped right over him with a sharp bite, clearly trying to keep his voice down.</p><p>“He <em> knows </em> about your connection to that cafe. Did you not stop to think he might send someone after you– after <em> us </em> the moment you sent that broadcasted?”</p><p>“That was going to be a risk whenever we sent it,” Akira defended, and he wondered if Akechi could sense his stare even with his head turned: His cheek twitched like it could feel his eyes burning on it. “That was just another reason to stick together last night. And Futaba hacked the neighborhood security cameras after she finished broadcasting. She and Ann had eyes on the streets half the night. If someone came by, we would have bolted immediately.” Akechi sniffed lightly, showing what he thought of <em> that </em> plan, but he didn’t look back and actually share that belittling look with Akira until Akira added, “If we sent it later, there would still be a delay before we could go, since Futaba had to be at Boss’s house to handle it live. Besides, I wanted everyone to see it together. They would miss it if we did it today during school hours.”</p><p>“How regrettable <em> that </em> would be.” </p><p>Akechi’s voice dripped sarcasm and disdain with each word, but Akira didn’t respond to it (one did not dare flinch in the face of Akechi Goro), merely tipped his head, his gaze blank as he asked, “He can’t find you now, right? Someone would have to know which cameras to check to even spot you. And Futaba kept an eye out for anyone unwelcome peeking in on Yongen-jaya or our phones.” </p><p>And no one could trace Akechi by <em> his </em> phone or laptop anymore. They were floating at the bottom of the ocean in Shido’s palace. Akechi had been reluctant to part with them, especially his phone. Getting rid of it meant losing the Nav app, after all, and no one was sure if the app would follow the user onto a new phone, or if it was tied to the device that had gone into the Metaverse. Either way, getting Akechi to let go of it might have been a <em> thing </em> with a capital T, but apparently he already knew about Futaba’s tampering. All it took was one vague little nudge of a comment from her, and he tossed the phone into the water himself. </p><p>Everything after that was simple. Akechi discarded his briefcase with no more than a frown, without even opening it. Akira had wondered what was inside it beyond the papers and laptop he’d seen before, if Akechi carried any weapons in their reality, but it didn’t matter anymore. All Akechi had with him when they left the palace was a wallet, a set of keys, and the clothes on his back, and even those were all back at LeBlanc. Akira imagined he must be feeling lost, maybe even illogically exposed without a phone or anything in hand, but Akechi looked simply irked as he tugged on the wrist of his glove and frowned at the table. “It is only a matter of time. He has the manpower and connections to hunt us out.”</p><p>“Then it’s a good thing we’re dealing with it today,” Akira countered, earning a renewed glare from his companion.</p><p>“We could be dealing with it right <em> now, </em> or even be done with it, if you had ordered the others to go as soon as the trains started running, or used the driver Okumura-san called.”</p><p>“Then the others’ covers might be blown by skipping all at once. Despite everything, even Niijima putting together who they are, they’ve managed to stay under the radar… Unless <em> you </em> confirmed their identities to anyone?”</p><p>Akechi’s expression grew tight, and though he didn’t show a hint of it, Akira wondered if he was covering a flinch. “…No. Anyone who looks into the matter could easily gather the truth, but I have never confirmed it.”</p><p>Akira smiled, though the expression didn’t touch his eyes, nor change the heavy tension clinging to their table. “Then it’s worth the risk.” Even if they never felt the threat of a deadline or a calling card quite like this one.</p><p>Akechi stayed quiet for a moment, holding that hard expression. Then the fire slowly leaked out of his face, and he huffed. “You are too blasé about this. Have you no sense of urgency? His failure to send anyone to the cafe is alarming, not reassuring. Keeping our heads down is pointless if he knows where to find you.” </p><p>Akira let his smile fall, let the front fall as Akechi broke their gaze to look across the room again, not in a searching or guarded way, but like he couldn’t be bothered to hold Akira’s gaze. Like he wanted to hide the exhaustion striking him. But Akira saw it anyway, and it reminded him of summer evenings, of hot water and damp memories that only stung more in hindsight, after everything Akechi confessed in the palace. Had it really been months? <em> Just </em> months since Sojiro coaxed them to visit the bathhouse and Akechi… It felt like years. Years since Akira started feeling that slow leak of blood in his heart for the boy sitting in front of him. He had been watching him for so long already at that point, had kept his eyes on him, looking for an answer. For the truth. Even before the festival confirmed it, he <em> watched </em> Akechi set the trap around him, right in front of him. Akira slipped that snare, with help from Futaba and Makoto and Sae and everyone, but to the last he never could take his eyes off of Akechi. </p><p>Even then, after <em> everything– </em></p><p>…Akira could laugh at himself. Not literally, of course, because he couldn’t risk Akechi asking why, and seeing through him, and laughing at him as well. Not over that. “I know you’re right,” he said, and <em> that </em> drew Akechi’s eye, though his gaze remained wary as Akira insisted, “I’m not dismissing the danger. I just can’t see a way to fully avoid it. We have to take risks, one way or another, and it doesn’t help to regret that. We’ll just do what we can, watch our backs, and stay away from LeBlanc until it's over. Futaba knows to get out of there sooner rather than later, and Boss knows what we’re doing. We’re as ready as we could hope to be.”</p><p>“Yes.” Akechi’s eyes strayed to the bag at Akira’s side, catching there as he rubbed a knuckle against his chin. A familiar tic that made Akira want to smile. He didn’t. </p><p>“What I’m wondering,” he said instead, shooting a quick glance at the table behind Akechi. It was empty. “Is what comes afterwards. Are the other members of the Conspiracy likely to be a problem if we cut off the hydra’s head?”</p><p>Akechi lifted his head and arched a brow at Akira’s choice of words, but otherwise sounded merely bemused. “Possibly. I always presumed there would be retribution if I went through with my original plans. That was inevitable.” </p><p>No, it wasn’t. And the flippant dismissal of alternatives left Akira mute in a way that was, for once, entirely involuntary. He wanted to ask… but he pushed his own questions aside (Had Akechi truly seen no alternative, did he just not care enough to worry about it, about what would follow success, did he even welcome–) to listen as Akechi spoke on. </p><p>“I would have made my move in <em> this </em> reality, however, and even his followers who understand the Metaverse cannot make direct use of it. Not without my help. The indirect means of attaching his shadow will undoubtedly cause chaos. Still, we cannot presume any of us will be safe, given the threat we pose and the requests I have handled for many of them. My location will be obvious if Sae-san takes me into custody, and <em> your </em> identity will be in his records, if it isn’t already known among the group at large.” Akechi returned his chin to his fingers, and leaned into his hand as he watched the door again, attention still clearly on his words. “It will come down to who makes the calls in his stead, and what that person or group considers more dangerous: Letting us run free to do as we like, or drawing unwanted attention by taking us out.” </p><p>Silence settled for a beat, the noise and movement of the diner distant and stifling and everything felt cramped, heavy with the weight of not knowing. Of what might happen. It reminded Akira of those worst moments, when Morgana ran, when they realized they were set up, when they first heard Akechi and Shido in that recording. Except in those moments Akira had his friends, all of them in sync in their distress, seeking help or at least snapping at one another with equal fervor, and Akira found strength and focus in their need for him. For his leadership. </p><p>Akechi didn’t need that, or at least didn’t seem to. He was untouched by his own observations, and when he finally reacted, it was with a grin, a wicked curl of a smile that Akira had never seen before. Not without fury to twist it. “Of course,” Akechi muttered, his tone reminding Akira perfectly of that recording. “That is presuming a smooth transfer of power. Perhaps we will get lucky, and they will be too busy wiping each other out to bother with us. By the time they are done, there may not be any threat left.”</p><p>There was a rough shift in the bag beside Akira. Morgana must have been peeking out, and seen enough worth jumping over.</p><p>Akira remained still, contemplating Akechi’s profile with a blank face, and said, “Maybe. The SIU director is already gone, right?” </p><p>Akechi didn’t flinch, but there was a pause where there <em> could have </em> been a flinch. Then he slid his eyes back to Akira with a look to kill. </p><p>Akira took the sting and stared back, inwardly marveling at his own words and wondering how Akechi would respond. Really, every second with Akechi felt like it could be as comfortable as an evening in Kichijoji, or as lethal as a duel at the drop of a glove.</p><p>Akira liked it.</p><p>Unfortunately, the waitress chose that moment to pop up with their food, and Akechi broke their gaze. She passed out drinks and plates with perfect accuracy and a light apology, disarming the tension at the table without ever noticing it was there. Even after she left, Akechi dismissed Akira in favor of the meal, sipping his tea and trying his sandwich with a mechanical efficiency Akira chose to mimic, until something prodded at his thigh.</p><p><em> “Hey. </em>Can I have some of that?”</p><p>Akira wordlessly tore bits of meat from his sandwich and passed them under the table, sharing his meal with the hidden not-cat as he kept his head bent and contemplated his companion through the cover of his bangs. Akechi was for all appearances focused on his own food, but his gaze was subtly pinned on the front door again. He barely even blinked, and Akira suspected he could keep that vigil for the rest of the meal. But the longer the silence dragged, the more uncomfortable Akira found it. Quiet company was usually his forte, but not with Akechi. There was never a need for it. Akechi talked, Akira listened. That was how it was. </p><p>Even that last time, just days before they sent Sae the calling card, Akechi had invited Akira to Jazz Jin and went on for over an hour like nothing had changed, talking about bicycles and struggles his classmates and the latest entry he had planned for his food blog, the one he might well never update again now. And the whole time, he had been completely relaxed, completely at ease with Akira, like he wasn’t planning to kill him, like he hadn’t just told him he hated him two weeks earlier, or gone on at their last meeting about turning down girls and ‘needing to do things’ in that vague way of his. Akira still wasn’t sure if that had been an attempted confession or a subtle discouragement because Akechi <em> knew </em> how Akira felt. If it was the latter, it was definitely overkill. If the ‘I hate you’ hadn’t put him off already, the bullet in his head on Sunday certainly got the point across. Even if it wasn’t actually Akira’s head.</p><p><em> …And, </em> he wasn’t going to think about that. “Can you help me carry takeout if I order it?” </p><p>Akechi paused mid-bite and looked at Akira, seemingly thrown by the sudden question. But he soon gathered himself and offered a quiet, <em> “Ah,” </em> before refocusing on the door. “The meal you promised the others? Yes, I suppose I could. Though we will have to linger here for a while before ordering, if you don’t want it to be cold. And it would be awkward, everyone eating standing around the station. Would it not be better to cater to their nutritional needs… <em> after </em> we are finished with our business?” </p><p>Akira took an instinctive look over Akechi’s shoulder (Good, just a single woman with a sleeping baby and a tired face scrolling through her phone in the booth beside them. Low risk.) before quietly answering, “Battles like that are usually exhausting, and going by the other shadows in that palace, this will probably be our hardest fight yet. No one will want anything afterwards except for a bed.”</p><p>Akechi didn’t counter that, or say anything in response. Just frowned a bit, and fell back into his head.</p><p>Akira watched him for maybe four seconds before asking, “Will you want anything in particular? A burger won’t last well, but the soups here are good.”</p><p>“I will be fine. No need to order anything for me.”</p><p>“I suppose I could whip something up back at the cafe if you’re hungry.”</p><p>“I suppose you <em> could.” </em> There was a snap in Akechi’s voice as he looked back and glared at Akira. No, as he scrutinized him. “Do you want something, Kurusu-kun?”</p><p>Akira’s eyebrows hit his bangs. “No?” Yes? “Your food preferences?” </p><p>“Yes, I am certain my <em> diet </em> is at the top of your priorities just now.”</p><p>“You do have fairly picky tastes. Did you ever get that traditional sushi you were hoping for? I know a couple of places, if you need suggestions.”</p><p><em> Oh, </em> he could swear Akechi’s eyes glinted there. “How kind of you to remember… You always <em> were </em> a good listener, weren’t you? That was one thing I never hated about you.”</p><p>
  <em> Ow. </em>
</p><p>“But, with that in mind,” Akechi continued, a smug glint in his eye, like he caught the sting of his little jab, even though Akira was <em> certain </em> he hadn’t flinched. “You <em> have </em> been surprisingly verbose today. At least, in comparison to how you were in the past, with me. Are you certain you were being ‘honest’ with me before?”</p><p>That, at least, Akira could smile for without effort. “Just making up the difference. You usually talk more.”</p><p>Akechi sat up a bit straighter, falling into an open glare. He didn’t seem pleased by the callout. “There is no point,” he claimed, his eyes daring him to say otherwise. “Would you rather I put on a performance? That is all our talks– my chatter ever was.”</p><p>“Liar.” That glare died as Akechi’s eyes went wide. <em> What, </em> did he not expect him to meet the dare? Akira stifled the urge to laugh, to let anything color his expression as he stared him down. “You love talking. You might have talked around what was <em> really </em> on your mind, but you still wanted to talk. So why stop now? If anything, it should be easier now.” Shouldn’t it?</p><p>Maybe not. The beat of hesitance on his rival’s face was <em> not </em> the sincerity Akira expected, and Akechi was slow to cover it, his expression surprisingly open and conflicted as he frowned at the table between them… but then the expression smoothed, and he grew closed off again, and there was something different about him. Something hard, and when he looked back up it was with searching, cutting eyes. Those eyes threatened with a look, and yet Akira relaxed under them. There was something right about those eyes. “Very well,” Akechi allowed, in a tone that said as clear as day, <em> ‘you asked for it’. </em> “In that case, would you care to explain how you did it?” </p><p>“Did what?” </p><p>“Saw through my plan.” Akechi relaxed forward enough to rest his forearms on the table, bringing his stare closer to Akira. “Escaped my trap. Found <em> him </em> and got into his palace. Did you discover his keywords by sheer luck, or by trial and error? Or did you <em> know </em> something about him?” The accusation behind the word ‘know’ was highlighted by a narrowing of sharp eyes and a return of that look Akechi shot him back in Yongen-jaya, the anger of realizing his rival <em> knew </em> things, that Akechi had been one-upped and he didn’t even know how. </p><p>But the look didn’t inspire any triumph or smugness in Akira this time around. Even the realization Akechi had turned Akira’s little prod to talk into an interrogation didn’t make him smile. He was too caught up in wondering how to answer… or rather, which question to answer. There were a few of them there. But even if Akechi’s focus was clearly on the tricks, the hows, he had inadvertently reminded Akira of something. Something that Akechi should know, before the infiltration. If Akira didn’t say… </p><p>…</p><p>Akira breathed out, and relaxed back in his seat, picking up his fork and spinning it over his fingers as he searched Akechi’s face. “What do you know about my arrest?”</p><p>Not the right things, apparently. Akechi wouldn’t make that confused, frustrated expression if he knew. “What does that have to do with how–” But he cut himself off, true question clouding his face as impatience died. Suddenly he was staring through Akira, caught up in his own head, and though he didn’t touch his chin, Akira had to fight a smirk at the appearance of <em> that </em> look. Really, Akechi’s rage and desperation and that <em> smile </em> from earlier were all beyond intimidating, but <em> that </em> look had to be his most dangerous, even if most wouldn’t think so. It was the look of the detective figuring things out, and Akira was more satisfied than surprised when Akechi suddenly focused on him again, realization and outrage sparking across his face like firecrackers. “It was <em> him. He </em> was the man you… that had you arrested.”</p><p>“For assault, yes,” Akira confirmed, but Akechi sneered at the words.</p><p>“That was obviously a false charge, <em> I know that,” </em> he snapped, and Akira blinked, his fingers stilling on the fork, dumbfounded to hear him say– was that something Akechi put together previously because it was Akira, or because it was Shido??? “That’s not the <em> point. </em> Are you saying you were targeting him because of his connection to <em> you?” </em></p><p>“We targeted him because he was the one giving you orders.” Akira put down the fork and glanced compulsively over Akechi’s shoulder. The lady at the other table was trying to bottle feed a now awake baby, her face tight with frustration. She couldn’t be listening. “I didn’t know he was the same guy, not until we sought him out for the keywords and met face-to-face. Then I recognized his voice.” </p><p>Yes, and what were the chances of it? Of this connection between them in Shido? Akira had been wondering about for days, but the question had a new tang to it in light of Igor’s talk of ruin and rehabilitation and what not. It was all too much. Akira had learned well over the months to just roll with the punches and the odd challenges thrown his way, to not question the magical apps and powers he’d been gifted. But, when he truly considered it all– </p><p>“It’s like fate, isn’t it?” Akira looked down, surprised but not <em> too </em> surprised to see Morgana’s face poking out of his bag, the not-cat craning his head up just enough to meet Akechi’s eye. “We weren’t looking for the guy who framed our leader, but when we went looking for the man named ‘Shido’, it turned out they were one and the same. And then it turned out <em> you </em> want vengeance against him, too. It’s like fate, isn’t it? Like it’s lining up reasons for us to team up!”</p><p>Akechi… didn’t look pleased by the argument. And Akira had to agree. Even if he’d longed for a reality where he could fight <em> with </em> Akechi, not against him, the impossible convenience of the whole thing felt contrived. Like there were strings on his wrists, and around his neck, tugging. And he couldn’t blame Akechi for fighting the same feeling and glaring at Morgana for the sentiment. “Need I remind you <em> again </em> that I am not a part of your team? This is nothing more than a temporary alignment of purpose and a lack of alternatives. And I am still not certain I can even accept your methods.”</p><p>Akira cocked an eyebrow. “You mean the change of heart?”</p><p>Akechi glanced back at him and looked instantly regretful, and then irked to cover it. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to share that. Not agreeing to the goal of the heist was definitely a threat to its success, after all, and the team’s willingness to work with him. But Akira remained nothing but sincerely curious as Akechi said, “It is certainly better than nothing, I will admit, but that does not mean I am satisfied. Who could be, with a method like that?” He glared at the intercom speaker on the wall, his hand balling up a napkin, his soft words all frosted in fire. “He should be punished, not handed the means to beg <em> forgiveness. </em> He should know it is a given that there <em> is </em> none, that he will have <em> nothing </em> but–” He huffed suddenly, shutting his eyes as he cut off his words and grappled for composure. His voice had started to rise, and he’d stopped himself just as Akira thought he would have to hush him. But he’d contained himself, and when he relaxed and opened his eyes again, he was bitterly calm. “I wanted to do this directly, to make him acknowledge me directly before I… But <em> this… </em> this is not vengeance. It’s not what he deserves.”</p><p>Akira listened, aware of Morgana shuffling about in the bag, but not looking down, too caught up in the conflict and resignation and old hurt glittering across Akechi’s frustration like flecks of light in black opal. It was simultaneously troubling and riveting, and Akira didn’t know what expression he was making in response, but when Akechi focused on him again, he instantly flinched and looked away, looking ready to snap again. Before he could, Akira spoke. “You should talk to Ann.”</p><p>…</p><p>“Huh? Lady Ann?” came a quiet call from the bag, and at the same time Akechi frowned, narrowing confused eyes on Akira. But he didn’t ask.</p><p>Akira answered anyways. “It’s not the same situation, I know. But the way you said that, it just reminded me of before. Of when we stole Kamoshida’s heart.” </p><p>Akechi’s eyes narrowed further. “Yes, I read about that case, of course. He abused many of the students, attacked Sakamoto-kun and harassed Takamaki-san, and her friend attempted suicide as a result of her own abuse, yes?”</p><p>“Among other things.” Just remembering it brought a sour taste to Akira’s mouth, and he reached for his tea. But he didn’t drink it, just tapped the glass and let the condensation slide over his fingers, watching it drip. “Any of us could give you the details, but I think Ann is the one who could explain it best. Because she didn’t want to stop him just for herself, or for anyone in general that he might hurt. She went after him because he hurt someone she loved.”</p><p>Akechi’s hand – the one clutching the napkin – twitched, and Akira followed the line of it up the arm to Akechi’s face, found him hard and glaring wild threats at him, a silent, screaming warning to <em> not </em> go there.</p><p>Akira didn’t, but he pressed on. “When we finally got to the treasure and beat him down, she nearly did it. She held back in the end, but she almost killed him.” He dropped their gaze, remembering it, falling into himself and looking down until he could barely see Akechi’s face. “And I didn’t try to stop her. None of us did.”</p><p>He still caught Akechi’s shock.</p><p>“We thought,” Morgana said, a somber mumble at Akira’s elbow. “After everything he did, it should be Lady Ann’s decision.”</p><p><em> Right, </em> Akira thought, too heavy to even nod.</p><p><em> “…Well. </em> Isn’t that surprising?” </p><p>Akira looked up.</p><p>“I <em> assumed,” </em> Akechi went on, words even and composed and thoughtful, but eyes bright and voice tight in a way that instantly set Akira’s nerves on edge. “Given your team’s self-righteous comments to me, and your targets, that all of you considered murder irreprehensible. <em> Intolerable. </em> And yet, one of you once attempted it? You and the others even <em> condoned </em> such an action? Do your later members even know about this?”</p><p>It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation, the glare in his gaze speaking of a tightly coiled spring, of an urge to dive across the table and rip them both apart for the sum of their contradictory parts. For their judgment and ‘justice’.</p><p>Morgana wilted under that sight, almost disappearing into the bag. “T-that’s–”</p><p>But Akira didn’t shrink. “We talk like that about it because of what we did.”</p><p>…</p><p>Akechi didn’t even twitch, but confusion slid into his expression, tainting his anger. </p><p>Akira kept his gaze, trying to make his meaning, his sincerity bleed out through his stare. “After everything with Kamoshida, we decided we didn’t want to be that.”</p><p>The question in Akechi didn’t even shift, but Morgana burst back up until even his front paws were out of the bag. “Right!” he chirped, beaming with the relief of the comeback. “We weren’t even a team at that point, you know! Not officially. We formed the Phantom Thieves for real <em> after </em> Kamoshida! After we saw the change of heart worked and everything! And we formed a pact, agreed to help others, to save people for their own sakes, not just our own, and to only change the hearts we <em> all </em> agreed needed to be changed!” And he looked so proud, saying all of that, and even though he sobered suddenly, there was a renewed confidence in his blue eyes as he gazed up at Akira. “And yeah, I never thought about it, but I guess it’s true. It wasn’t said in the same way, but we definitely agreed it wasn’t right to kill. Even if I like to think we knew that before…”</p><p>Akira nodded, giving Morgana a grateful look for the input before refocusing on Akechi. He looked put off again, but there was a reluctant catch to his frown, and not nearly as much heat in his gaze when Akira started talking again. “We took a big risk with Kamoshida, but in the end, I’m glad we went through with it. That we experienced how easy it is to lash out for our own sakes, and call it justice.” There, Akechi’s eyes flashed again, hackles rising. But Akira ignored the warning, frowning at his drink as he fought back his own stale wrath, the memory of it licking at his calm and urging him to squeeze the glass. “She didn’t do it, but I wanted her to. I wanted revenge, too. Because I was angry.”</p><p>He was so <em> pissed </em> at the time. At Kamoshida, at the school, at Shido, even if he didn’t know his name yet, at Sojiro and his family and everyone who abandoned him and turned their backs after the arrest. It all felt so unfair, like everyone who should have supported him, who <em> should have </em> taken responsibility had turned their backs and walked away, leaving <em> them </em> to take the risks and do what was right. They shouldn’t have been left to make that choice. They shouldn’t have borne that.</p><p>But they did. And even as he remembered that feeling, Akira didn’t regret it. </p><p>“Why didn’t she do it?”</p><p>He looked up, and found reluctance in Akechi’s face. He was trying to cover it with a frown and a calm not so different from the one Akira scrapped for, but the want for an answer was still there in his unblinking stare, the stillness of him. Akira took it in… and let go of his glass. “Because he couldn’t admit his crimes if she did. And he couldn’t atone.”</p><p>Akechi’s expression soured. “You really think,” he started, each word quiet and even and twisted in disdain. “A man like that could possibly atone for the things he has done?”</p><p>“He definitely can’t if he’s dead.”</p><p>Akechi didn’t respond, but the black tar fell out of his eyes, shocked out by Akira’s words. No, not the words. The way he said them: simply, plainly. Coldly. </p><p>‘Kamoshida Suguru was useless if he was dead.’</p><p>It was a chilled thought that made even Akira want to shiver, remembering that fight and Ann’s words and how he himself felt in that moment. In those days. That April. </p><p>It was a very cold month.</p><p>Akira ran his thumb along the rim of his glass (When had he grabbed it again?) then picked it up and drank, let the sweet flavor of the cheap tea ground him before putting it down and refocusing on Akechi. “He was going to kill himself, you know,” Akira said, like he couldn’t see the shock still on Akechi’s face. “He said so, when he confessed. He only took it back because Ann called him a coward for trying to escape, for thinking that would help anybody.” …He let his eyes fall, catch in the napkin in Akechi’s hand. “If he lived, he could maybe do something. Not to make up for any of it, but <em> something </em> of value. Even <em> he </em> might be able to do some good. Dying, though– that doesn’t make up for anything. It’s just giving up.”</p><p>That hand twitched, then retreated, disappearing into Akechi’s lap.</p><p>And Akira swallowed guilt. He didn’t want– he <em> knew </em> it was callous to say that. How Akechi might take it. But it was a gamble he was willing to make. Because he couldn’t <em> not </em> say it. Not when he thought of that door slamming shut, about what Akechi almost– </p><p>He breathed out the memory and dared to look up, but found nothing. Akechi was staring right at him, through him, but nothing of what he thought showed in his face. He was a hard wall, waiting. <em> Expecting. </em></p><p>So Akira swallowed his nerves and made himself give. “I don’t mean I regret letting Ann decide whether to kill him, to be clear.”</p><p>Akechi offered him nothing but a faint shift of a frown.</p><p>Akira took it. “We let Yusuke make the same choice. With Madarame. We thought he should have that chance, too. Not to kill him, but to choose.” </p><p>“…So,” Akechi said, the flat drop of his voice a relief Akira tried not to savor. “You risked the life of your target so your new ‘teammate’ could experience this same ‘lesson’ you learned.”</p><p>“Pretty much.”</p><p>“Isn’t that rather hypocritical of you?”</p><p>“Maybe. …Probably. Still true.”</p><p>“And what would you have done,” Akechi asked, his expression showing cracks of anger at the edges. “If he had not followed through? If he had killed Madarame?”</p><p>If he was expecting doubt or hesitance, Akira disappointed him. “I would have understood.” Because he would have. “Madarame killed his mother, you know.”</p><p>Akechi <em> didn’t </em> know, if the twitch and gutted look he gave him was any indication.</p><p>Akira didn’t give him time to recover, staring him down without mercy. “He would regret it, though, if he had done it. Even now, Yusuke’s feelings on him are not simple.” He was like a father to him. But saying <em> that– </em> no. That <em> was </em> a step too far. “And even if they were, it’s still a life. It still would have been wrong to take it.” </p><p>The cracks in Akechi’s composure split deeper. “Is that so?” his voice cracking but blessedly quiet. “Because every life has value, <em> yes? </em> Because you think <em> everyone </em> deserves to live, no matter what they’ve done?” </p><p>Even Shido? </p><p>The question hung in the air, unspoken, even their relative confidence of privacy leaving no room for it to be said. </p><p>Akira heard it anyways, and considered. Considered if he truly, <em> truly </em> believed there was any future where Shido Masayoshi was capable of a strand of good… and admitted, “I don’t know.” He couldn’t see it. “It’s hard to think so, with some people.” Still, he was never more confident than when he looked Akechi in the eye and swore, “But I’m not willing to take that step if I’m not <em> sure.” </em></p><p>…Akechi relaxed back in his seat, frowning at Akira like he was the most disappointing thing he had ever seen.</p><p>Akira grinned, reading the stand down. <em> “Really, </em> you should talk to Ann. Or Yusuke, if you want. That talk may go odd places, though. Either way, they can probably explain it better than I can. I was there, but it was different for them.” He looked down at his glass, smiling fondly. “I really admire them for how they handled it. The both of them.”</p><p>“Yes! Lady Ann was an inspiration to us all.” </p><p>Akira’s grin curled and he looked even more fondly at Morgana, who was grinning dreamily at nothing from his spot in the bag, as predictable as the tide. Trust Morgana to add a little certainty to the world. </p><p>Still, the not-cat soon recovered and shook himself back to reality, instantly focusing a frown on Akechi. “I’m curious, though! What <em> do </em> you think of the Phantom Thieves’ justice? You’ve said a lot of things, but most of that was before we knew the truth about you. Officially, that is.”</p><p>That was true, and Akira turned his own curious look on Akechi, mute so as not to discourage a response. And Akechi’s glance at Morgana was openly disdainful. But he did eventually respond, <em> while </em> looking at Akira. “I think you are all idealistic hypocrites. Even if you choose not to kill your targets or cause a shutdown, do you truly think a change of heart is any different? That there is no cost to it?” He scoffed and looked away, combining a dismissal with a quick glance around the diner as he muttered, as if to himself, “The idea of someone ‘fixing you’ from the inside like that. <em> I hate it. </em> It sounds no better than brainwashing. A lobotomy of the soul, cutting away the parts of the heart you deem unacceptable and making the victim into what you want them to be. I would rather die than have something like that happen to me.”</p><p>Akira’s eyes went so wide it felt like they might roll out, not just for the words but because– because Akechi believed them. He was <em> wrong, </em> but he– he actually believed that, didn’t he? Or had he <em> convinced </em> himself that– </p><p>“It doesn’t work like that!” He looked down to find Morgana half out of the bag, far too visible, and Akira was too shocked to do anything about it as the not-cat glared at Akechi. “We don’t pick and choose what changes about a target! And even if we <em> could, </em> we aren’t ‘cutting away’ anything! Not unless you consider the distortion itself a <em> part </em> of them, and it shouldn’t be! It’s not lies or harmful to them! The only reason people break down or fall apart is because we make them feel their <em> own </em> guilt! We don’t put that feeling into them!”</p><p>Akira zipped his focus back to Akechi, watched him hesitate and then glare the harder for the slip-up. “That is just the platitudes you feed yourself to <em> excuse it,” </em> he hissed. “How can you see them afterwards and think you haven’t done something as irrevocable as murder?”</p><p>Morgana hissed too, in a far more natural sort of way, but Akira’s attention remained on Akechi, and he was caught by his expression, by the conclusions hitting him, and Akira wasn’t even thinking when he asked, “You really don’t know how it works, do you?”</p><p>Akechi actually gave a little jump, tensing up and staring baffled at Akira, like he’d forgotten he was even there. Then he redoubled into an insulted leer. <em> “Of course I do. </em> Or did you just <em> forget </em> everything that happened in Sae-san’s Palace?”</p><p>Morgana hissed far more viciously. <em> “You really think </em> he could actually forget what <em> you–” </em></p><p>Akira put a staying hand on Morgana’s head, and ignored the way Akechi grimaced at even that half-statement. <em> “Before that,” </em> Akira insisted. “Before her Palace… You were being honest, weren’t you? When you asked about how it works. You didn’t know how to change a heart.” <em> Oh, </em> the look on Akechi’s face. It was nothing dramatic, just a gamer without a move to play, but that look was <em> everything </em> on <em> that </em> face, Akira was left reeling with questions of his own: <em> Is that </em> why the thieves disturbed him so much from the start? Long before they were an active threat to his plans for Shido? It wasn’t just the risk of discovery or Shido’s ire over lost connections or the threat of an unknown factor, it was–</p><p>Then Akechi found a glare and the will to fight back. <em> “So what? </em> What does <em> that </em> matter? That <em> doesn’t </em> change my complaints.”</p><p>But Akira didn’t answer. His train of thought steamed on, and he followed it down the tracks it led… and looked to Morgana as the thoughts struck him. “I wouldn’t have known either, if not for Morgana. None of us would have… It’s not a natural thing to do, is it? Unless you already know.”</p><p>Morgana didn’t reply, just stared up at him with perfectly round blue eyes, struck dumb himself.</p><p>“Would you not?” Akira turned back to Akechi, feeling oddly floaty as he took in the thin veil of hate Akechi tried to cover his distress with. As he snapped, “And what if you <em> hadn’t </em> known about it? Given what you said earlier, about your feelings on Kamoshida, what would you have done? Would you have <em> still </em> used that world? <em> Killed him? </em> Bloodied your hands and <em> still </em> called it justice, since you had ‘no other choice’?”</p><p>Morgana sparked right back up. “Of course not!” he snapped, outraged and appalled. “We would have found a way to– that’s <em> not fair! </em> That’s not even a real question! You shouldn’t play ‘what if’ games that ignore reality however you like! If we had just looked for an answer and figured it out naturally– if we had just <em> tried–” </em></p><p>“Probably.”</p><p>The table went quiet for a moment, Akechi and Morgana turning in sync to stare at Akira. </p><p>Akira said nothing, kept staring back at Akechi expectantly, waiting for a response… But, it wasn’t the frozen detective who spoke first.</p><p>
  <b> <em>“What?!”</em> </b>
</p><p>Akira shot out a hand and pushed down on Morgana’s head hard enough to smash him down into the bag.</p><p>The waitress popped up not a second later. “Excuse me,” she said, her work smile teetering as she not-so-subtly looked over the table. “Is everything alright? I thought–”</p><p>“Yes, we’re fine,” Akira interrupted, expression just as even as it had been before Morgana squawked. “Is something wrong?” </p><p>“Well, that is–” she trailed off again at a little hiccup of a cry, and she and Akira both looked over to see the lady at the next table struggling to calm her crying baby, cooing and trying in vain to push the bottle into its mouth. As the baby pinched its little mouth shut and went red-faced, Akira blessed his lucky stars, and the waitress looked back at him with a doubly-pasted on smile. “My apologies, I must have– please excuse me.” She bowed hurriedly, then rushed over to the next table to repeat her check-in.</p><p>Akira watched her go, then slowly turned to his rival.</p><p>Akechi was still staring at him, his disbelief just the same. Had he even twitched since Morgana yelled or the waitress came?</p><p>Akira didn’t know, but he waited until the waitress finished talking to the lady, and slipped back across the diner… and then he lifted his hand. </p><p>Morgana popped out gasping and glaring. <em> “AHHh– Guh… Don’t– </em> <b> <em>do</em> </b> <em> tha–” </em> He ducked down as Akira’s hand came at him again. <em> “Okay! Okay!! </em>I’ll keep it down!” </p><p>Akira had his doubts, but he slowly lowered his hand back to the table, giving the not-cat a long checking look before refacing Akechi.</p><p>Again, no change to his expression. </p><p>No– no, that wasn’t quite true. Akira could see doubt seeping in, suspicion, and before it could actually win out, he shared what he had meant to say. “We didn’t even know how the change of heart worked the first time we did it. Morgana warned us it might cause a mental shutdown.”</p><p>There was a shuffle in his bag, and then a quiet, “That’s…” that trailed off into nothing.</p><p>Akira didn’t look. “And still, we considered going through with it. We were unsure, scared of the risk, but after Shiho, we didn’t care anymore. We couldn’t let him get away with it.” He couldn’t imagine killing, <em> murdering </em> without a care, but he couldn’t imagine walking away, either. Not when it meant Kamoshida hurting more. Not when it meant more Anns, more Shihos, more Ryujis and Mishimas. He wouldn’t <em> have it, </em> and even if Morgana spoke of would-be searches for alternatives, Akira couldn’t imagine wasting time looking. Not when it might mean Kamoshida hurting someone else. But even as a strange sort of wonder hit Akechi’s face, Akira had to grimace, and had to add, “I would have regretted it, though.” Even if he <em> could </em> imagine it.</p><p>And that odd look crumbled off Akechi’s face, replaced by a distaste that was almost defensive. “‘Regretted it’.” He shook his head, his gaze taunting. “Why do you go so far with your sincerity, and then cut yourself off just before acceptance? You <em> wanted </em> to kill him. Why don’t you just admit that? Running from it leaves you looking so pathetically conflicted.”</p><p>Heh, <em> why </em> did that derision make Akira want to smile? He didn’t know, but he rolled with it, grinning weakly before answering. “It’d be kind of scary if I wasn't conflicted.” Akechi looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at that, to give some retort, but Akira sobered and spoke before he could. “What I’m saying is I know we haven’t done everything right, or for the right reasons. But I still believe we’re doing the right thing.” He looked down at Morgana, who had lost his annoyance and outrage at some point and was practically wilting into the bag, his long face the only thing still visible. Akira smiled down into it. “And, I know I’ve been lucky. We were really, <em> really </em> lucky to have Morgana there to show us the way. I will defend the Phantom Thieves’ justice, but the only reason that justice even exists is because Morgana was there to help us find it.”</p><p>His little not-cat friend looked like he was about to cry. “Joker…”</p><p>Akira widened his smile reassuringly, then dropped it as he refocused on Akechi. The taunts and jeers were gone from his face, and he just looked tired now, apathetic. But he was listening. “It isn’t fair,” Akira said, calm and clear and <em> angry, </em> though he felt it only as a conviction. “It isn’t <em> fair </em> that you weren’t given the same option. And I can’t fix that… and it’s probably arrogant to even think it’s my place to try.”</p><p><em> There, </em> a spark of life in those red-brown eyes. A brow arching, intrigued.</p><p>“But I want to,” Akira claimed, “I want to help <em> now, </em> now that I can. I want you to have the same chance that Ann and Yusuke had. That we all had. I want you… I want you to have a choice, too.” </p><p>Akechi continued considering him, and when it seemed to hit him that no, Akira <em> wasn’t </em> going to keep talking, he looked away, mused over the diner and the occupants and presumably what Akira said. </p><p>And Akira waited, expecting a retort. An ‘except you expect me to make <em> your </em> choice,’ or a ‘the lobotomy, you mean,’ or maybe even a simple, ‘you idiot’. <em> Something. </em> </p><p>What he got was a long silence followed by an exasperated, “Is this how you charmed half of Tokyo into covering your ass?”</p><p>When Akira recovered from the shock, he grinned. “Why? Is it working?”</p><p>Akechi scoffed, and turned back, and if <em> ‘God, I hate you’ </em> was a look, it would be the one he shot Akira. “You should not assume I would make the same choice as you and your friends. Not everyone thinks the way you do.”</p><p>Akira lost the smile, mirroring Akechi’s heavy stare. “I know that.” </p><p>Akechi didn’t seem pleased by the assurance, his mouth twisting with a grimace as he looked away again. </p><p>Akira kept staring, though, and he could swear he saw conflict there, beneath Akechi’s disdain and apathy. Uncertainty. And mulling over it… He wasn’t sure if he should press, if it was any good, but he tapped the table a while before speaking up. “I know it isn’t what you wanted.”</p><p>Akechi didn’t turn back, but he looked at him out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>“It isn’t revenge,” Akira clarified. “It’s not even punishment, really.”</p><p>“Not unless you consider looking in the mirror and facing yourself punishing, anyway.”</p><p>Akira’s lips twitched at Morgana’s grumble, but he didn’t look down, and he was glad he didn’t when he caught a curious glint in Akechi’s eye. A thoughtful one. “It’s stopping him,” Akira went on, sobering again as Akechi faced him properly and they stared at each other. “Keeping him from hurting anyone else. Tipping the table on his mess and leaving him to clean it up.” </p><p>‘Rehabilitation.’ </p><p>“That’s what a change of heart is. That’s all,” he said, feeling the weight in his chest as he tipped his own hand and made a gamble. “The question is, is that enough? <em> Can </em> it be enough, Akechi?”</p><p>The bleak, hard look that flashed across Akechi’s face spoke of an instant, obvious <b> <em>‘No.’</em> </b> </p><p>But then it twisted, collapsed in on itself, and Akechi grimaced and dropped his gaze to the table.</p><p>He didn’t answer.</p><p>Akira didn’t expect him to.</p>
<hr/><p>He was waiting for them.</p><p>Joker knew he would be, or expected it at least, but as he walked out of the elevator into the ‘assembly hall’ with his team and saw that bald silhouette standing behind the podium, the rage was blindsiding, and he was crossing the hall in a rush. The thieves were right with him, all of them running together along the aisles to converge together at the front. The second they stopped Skull screamed out, <em> “Shido!” </em> and the figure turned.</p><p>“Where did you <em> lowlifes </em> obtain that… <em> Ah.” </em> That echoing familiar <em> horrid </em> voice cut off as Shido actually looked at them and noticed the black-masked standing beside Joker. It should have been gratifying somehow, Shido recognizing Crow even through the face-covering helmet he wore, intact once more with their return to the palace. Instead, that focus on Crow made Joker want to skip the pleasantries and the rules and shoot him. “Akechi, <em> what are you doing? </em> I thought you were sharp, but for you to actually be working with these pathetic–”</p><p>“Shut it, Shido!” Skull snapped, bringing the attention back to him as he shook a fist at the politician. “We know what you were planning to do!”</p><p>“Yes,” Fox agreed. “How can you speak to him like that after what you tried to do? <em> Your own–” </em> </p><p><em> “Shut up.” </em> The group turned to Crow, watching as one as he pulled out his new pistol and aimed it at the shadow’s head. </p><p>‘Shido’ gave a short laugh. “Ah, is that what it was? I <em> wondered, </em> but to think you were truly–”</p><p>Crow shot.</p><p>Joker jumped at the sound and whirled back, his heart in his throat– but while ‘Shido’ was holding a bloody, black smoking shoulder, he was still standing.</p><p>There was a click as Crow refocused the pistol back on Shido’s head. “I have no interest in whatever you have to say,” he said, voice colder than Joker had ever heard it. “Every word you have ever spilt is worthless.”</p><p>Shido’s only answer was a hiss, but there was murder in his golden eyes. The same eyes Joker remembered from that night.</p><p>Then the room shook.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Screw reconciling Joker &amp; PT's ethics, time to punch a prime minister!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really should have split this but I couldn’t bear to, so enjoy over 14k words of new content that was two months in the making!</p><p>And we are officially out of what I call the ‘set up’ section of the story and after this, my whims are the guide. What shall we do for ‘three weeks’, hmm?</p><p> <a href="https://mobile.twitter.com/phoebeus14">hit me up on twitter if you like!</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Goro should have shot Shido when he had the chance.</p><p><em> Properly, </em> that is. A bullet to the brow, right where he shot Joker– <em> Kurusu </em> a lifetime ago, and walked away feeling like air, light and free and empty. Right where <em> Shido </em> had a bandage last March when he came back from some forgettable meeting with a forgettable politician in some backass town a few hours from Tokyo. He claimed at the time that some inn worker had screwed up and not dried the floor properly in his room’s restroom. That he slipped and hit his head on the sink. </p><p>He lied. Kurusu did that, even if it was Shido’s own damn fault. Because <em> of course </em> it was his fault, everything <em> always </em> went back to <b> <em>him.</em> </b></p><p>But no, when the Palace shook and Goro shot again, he went for a leg, not the head, because he had <em> accepted– </em> but he shouldn’t have. Shido didn’t even react, and then he was out of reach, the whole room collapsing upwards as Joker’s team exclaimed stupidly around him. Fox at least had the sense to move with Goro, and the rest followed. And Goro was ready to just <em> end it </em> by the time they caught up to the Palace Ruler again, consequences be damned.</p><p>But it was too late. Unless Goro could get close enough to shoot point-blank, his bullet wouldn’t pierce that stupid helmet. </p><p>Of course, there was always the usual option.</p><p>Goro grit his teeth against the frustrating thought and tossed a Lævateinn at the swarming mass of lion flying over their heads. It gave a gratifyingly pained roar, but that did nothing to quiet the frustrating thought that it would all be <em> over </em> already if he could <em> just </em> reach out and grasp the power laying at his fingertips, the same one that had made him feel powerful and blessed and chosen since he was fifteen. The Call of Chaos’ effect on reality wasn’t instant, and Shido, the <em> real </em> Shido, might not know Goro had turned on him yet. He could lie, still infect the shadow and return to Shido with some story of a cover, could <em> be there </em> when the inevitable struck. And when Shido fought for breath and sweat struck his brow and his eyes threatened to roll, Goro could tell him what he had done, tell him <em> everything, </em> watch the horror and the truth strike Shido’s face before the end. It wasn’t the perfect revenge he had imagined, but it was close. It could still be sweet.</p><p>But he couldn’t have that without stepping over the thieves. Over Joker. And even if Goro could forget how that had felt the first time, it was too late.</p><p>“It changed <em> again?!” </em> Oracle cried, speaking for their unanimous shock as the ‘lion’ rolled into a ball and shifted into a great pyramid, the tip spiked in the same way as Shido’s ridiculous helmet. The man’s voice echoed from its confines, spouting out more nonsense about ‘sacrifice’ and ‘ideals’, all so familiar and retch-inducing that Goro yelled to drown it out.</p><p>“Are we just <em> waiting </em> for him to make a move?!”</p><p>Oracle stuttered over a “R-right,” and started scrambling for data to offer them, but in the lull Joker snapped his fingers. The move was a half-familiar one from the casino, but Goro never understood it, and he shot the leader a baffled look even as he half-expected the insight tossed out.</p><p>“He has no weaknesses now.” Joker smirked as he looked over his team. “No resistances, either, so just toss out your strongest moves. <em> Crow! Panther! Skull!” </em></p><p>“You got it!” Skull cried, but Goro didn’t wait to see his move or what Panther did or to be called on before throwing out another Lævateinn attack. Waves of fire and Skull’s great monkey soon joined the onslaught, and it was only when a rush of warmth stitched the wounds Goro brought on himself that he realized Joker wasn’t beside them. It didn’t matter, though, he was there, and the assurance of healing only made him more relentless in his attacks, more confident as he slammed into that grotesque hunk of gold <em> again and again, </em> until once more Oracle’s voice rang out over the noise.</p><p><em> “Watch out!! </em> That thing’s charging up!”</p><p>“That move– Everyone, don’t let it hit you at full force! It will take us out for sure!!” Queen added, the quake in her voice finally prompting Goro to hesitate for just a moment– and he snapped into a guard just before the pyramid burst with light.</p><p>It hurt, and he stayed on his feet but <em> barely, </em> the attack hitting him with a punch of pain and dizziness and <em> frustration, </em> and though it passed in little more than a heartbeat, thanks to Joker’s cry of <em> ‘Avataka!’ </em> the anger stayed. Goro gripped the hilt of his sword hard enough to shake, ready to make another move and <em> end it–  </em></p><p>“Hecate!!”</p><p>Panther’s Concentrated Agidyne burned across the room, tossed out with a cry to match– no, to <em> undermine </em> Goro’s rage, and in all honesty he was irritated when the pyramid fell into the fire, breaking up into black smoke to reveal the wingless lion collapsed on the ground. But Shido, just beside it, was soon upright again, snapping insults at his failed support and not even looking back as the lion went up in smoke as well. His focus was already on the thieves, false praise falling from his lips as he sneered down his nose at them– at <em> him. </em> Skull tossed some comeback for his words, but Shido’s eyes – yellow like any other shadow’s, but fake and shallow as gold-plating – caught and stayed on Goro, boring through him as if his own helmet and armor and proof of rebellion didn’t exist. </p><p>“And <em> you. </em> What do you think to gain by this, Akechi?” Shido scoffed. “I can see now why you would use these brats like this. You never would have gotten this far without them. But I thought you were <em> sharp. </em> Do you <em> really </em> think that cognition was the only protection I prepared against you? That I can only hurt you here in my Palace? <em> They </em> might have had a hope, if I <em> actually </em> let them walk out of here, but <em> you–” </em></p><p>“I have no interest in what follows this,” Goro interrupted. “Everything I have done up to this point has been with the aim of making you face the <em> justice </em> you have earned by your own hand.” ‘Justice’. He said the word like it was an insult, a mockery, and yet for the first time in a long time, it tasted sweet. “If there is a cost for that, I will gladly pay the price. So long as I am there to watch you fall.” </p><p>Joker shifted in his periphery, but Goro didn’t look away to see why. </p><p><em> “Tch.” </em> Shido glared at him through the thin slots of his mask. “I expected this, but still, to think you would turn on me after everything I have done. What ingratitude.”</p><p>“What would you know about <em> gratitude?!” </em> The fire burning inside of Goro went cold, frozen numb as he peered over at Panther. She was glaring blue flames of her own at his father. “You never would have gotten this far without <em> his help!” </em></p><p>The scoff Shido gave dragged Goro out of his shock before he could process past it. “He only appeared to offer his help thanks to the expectations God held for <em> me.” </em> His expression turned to a smirk as he leered at Goro, all amusement and unearned, depraved confidence. “And he never would have learned how to use his power <em> properly </em> if not for <em> my </em> help.”</p><p>Goro tensed, feeling eyes on him. <em> The thieves’ </em> eyes. The room was too quiet, and too loud with meaning. He knew what Shido meant, and it was bullshit. It didn’t matter how Shido pushed him, how he tried to manipulate and use him. Goro was a fool to think he had <em> ever </em> earned Shido’s trust, but still– <em> Goro </em> was the one blessed, the one who approached Shido, the one who proved himself. Every demand, every order he followed through with, every test he endured, the prodding minds and pulsing red walls and <b> <em>pain–</em> </b> <em> He </em> withstood it all, knowing <em> exactly </em> what he was doing. He reaped the rewards and paid the cost. <em> Him. </em> He was the one who walked that path, and he had narrowed it again and again by his own hand in order to reach his goal, until there was no more room to sidestep. Until there was barely any room left to walk at all.</p><p>And he always knew there was nothing after the goal. When he reached the end of that path– </p><p>Goro pulled his gun and aimed for the throat, a lazy threat to his hold. “Do you have some other card to play?” he sneered. “Because if all that you have left are <em> words–” </em> </p><p>Shido laughed. “Did you <em> really </em> think this is the limit of what I can achieve? I will bring this nation the happiness it seeks by steering it <em> with my own hand. </em> One chosen for this – chosen by <em> God </em> – will not fall so easily!”</p><p>And then he stripped.</p><p>What the <em> fuck? </em></p><p>“What is this power?!” Oracle cried as Shido kept talking and Goro regretted <em> so </em> many of his life choices, mainly the ones that led him to having to witness <b> <em>that.</em> </b> “Careful, those muscles aren’t just–”</p><p>Goro’s aim caught between the wrinkles in Shido’s brow– then slid off, focusing on Shido’s ear as he tested the waters. </p><p>The bullet ricocheted off of Shido’s face, and the muscled mess barely flinched before sliding back to a smirk. </p><p>Goro dropped his arm. <em> “Tch.” </em></p><p>“Worth a shot.” </p><p>…</p><p>Goro gave into the inane, irrational impulse to <em> take his eyes </em> off his father, and looked at Joker.</p><p>The thief shot him the quickest of smirks – like he was <em> waiting </em> for Goro’s glare – then refocused on Shido with a gesture to his team. “Panther, he just used Heat Riser. Toss out Dekaja and fall back! Queen, jump in after her! Everybody buff up and–”</p><p>And it was the same thing all over again. Charges and buffs, hits and heals, Goro dismissing it all to slam into Shido over and over again with a force that should have toppled a building, but did frustratingly <em> nothing. </em> Or, what felt like nothing. Shido’s body was growing redder and redder, his smirk twisting into a permanent grimace, but then he flexed off the springs on his body and revealed an even <em> more </em> grotesque form, and his moves grew worse, <em> faster, </em> and Goro hated it. Hated how little impact he was making, how his claws and Loki’s sword and the team’s moves never showed on Shido’s disgusting skin, how they were chipping away at a mountain when they should rightly be <em> demolishing– </em></p><p>Then Shido let out a roar, a perfect mirror to Goro’s rage, and glared at them– no, at <em> Goro. </em> “You are more trouble than it’s worth!” he snapped, and before Goro could find a retort he turned away and focused on <em> Joker. </em> “And <em> you–” </em></p><p>Then Shido hit the ground.</p><p>“W-what–”</p><p>“–the <em> hell?!” </em>   </p><p>
  <em> “Aaah!!!” </em>
</p><p><em> Dammit! </em> Goro cursed inside, clenching his teeth to hold in a cry as they all went flying in a wave of violet light. They landed in a heap far, <em> far </em> too far away, the momentum and impact knocking Goro on his back. There was– there was no way they could have gone that far! It had to be some cognitive thing, a trick of the Ruler bending the reality of his Palace to his whims–</p><p>
  <b> <em>“Joker!”</em> </b>
</p><p>Goro was on his feet again before he breathed, before he registered anything beyond the horror in Mona’s voice, and everyone else echoing it. They were <em> all </em> yelling, Oracle the only one aiming for coherent sentences as she used her Persona to try to reach out to the leader. But Joker’s back was to them, and he was out of their reach, cut off by jagged ground and undying violet flames. </p><p>Stranded with Shido.</p><p>
  <b>No.</b>
</p><p>“W-wait, Crow!” </p><p>“You can’t touch that fire!” Queen snapped, jumping in his way to push him back by the shoulders when Panther’s tug on his arm didn’t even slow him. “You’ll just get hurt!”</p><p><em> “We can’t just leave him to face him alone!” </em> Skull yelled, and Fox said something in return, something strained and loud, but Goro didn’t register it, ignored them all as he fought to see past the flames and– Why would Shido corner <em> him </em> over Goro?! Why corner <b> <em>him</em> </b> at all?!</p><p>Shido was talking too, laughing and yelling at Joker about ‘unifying’ or something, but it didn’t matter. Whether Shido had a reason, whether he was <em> dismissing </em> Goro or considered him too dangerous to face, it <em> didn’t matter. </em> Joker pulled out another of his Persona, the winged Trumpeter, and tried to weaken Shido, but Shido tossed an ice attack in his face and Joker stumbled and it <b> <em>didn’t matter!</em> </b> Goro couldn’t stand it! Couldn’t <em> watch! </em></p><p>But Panther and Queen were still boxing him in, and even though he wanted to push them both over, he knew they were right. Oracle and Queen would have dived in themselves if they saw they could survive those flames. If they were standing there, it was because they could do nothing.</p><p><em> Useless, </em> the lot of them.</p><p>Himself included.</p><p>He shook in his rage, tried to silently burn the envy and frustration and everything else he felt in its fire as he watched Joker summon the black winged demon he called Arsène– his ‘own’ Persona, the only one Goro had seen him use consistently from Palace to Palace, from Okumura to now. With it, Joker cast Concentrate, then dodged the giant golden fist Shido sent at him to toss back a rumbling blow of Megidolaon.</p><p>Goro didn’t recall Arsène knowing <em> those </em> moves.</p><p>The Persona was strong, hit hard, and when Shido grew frustrated and aimed spell after attack at the leader, few hit. The same speed and agility that vexed Goro in their duel weeks ago kept Joker out of harm’s way, and when something <em> did </em> land Joker flew between Atavaka and Trumpeter again, healing himself and weakening Shido like it was nothing to him. </p><p>One time, Shido tried to toss a fire attack at him, and it <em> hit, </em> but Joker had just switched to Trumpeter, and he <em> laughed </em> as the move mirrored back on the surprised, infuriated caster.</p><p>It was enough to make Goro smirk, even as a rock landed in his gut. Because Joker had just switched back to Arsène, and Goro <em> knew </em> Arsène, and unless Joker had managed another of his feats and changed it– </p><p>He hadn’t. Shido Debilitated Joker right back, tossed out another ice attack at him, and Joker was knocked off his feet.</p><p><em> “No,” </em> Queen breathed, her voice twisting on a crack, but all that mattered was her and Panther’s grips had gone loose. </p><p>Goro flew.</p><p>“What– <em> wait!” </em></p><p>He didn’t. The grasping fingers, the cries and confusion at his back, <em> nothing </em> slowed him until the flames were over him. He stumbled, his knee catching at the burn but it was <em> too late, he was already in the middle of it, </em> so he reached inside himself and let out a scream as he pulled out that power, calling on Loki and the chaos to sizzle black against the flames as he pushed forward.</p><p>There was a spark among it all, a wave of warmth right when a part of him <em> knew </em> he was at his limits, but he ignored it. It didn’t matter who had healed him. What mattered was Shido, right in front of him now, his ugly fist raised to call down some new attack. He must have heard him coming because he whirled around to gawk at his appearance, and Goro used his momentum to slam a foot right into his gut.</p><p>Shido tripped back only a step, maybe two, but the outraged pain on his face was priceless.</p><p>Joker, too. The shock on his face when Goro dared a glance his way was just as sweet.</p><p>It was tempting to kick again, grind Shido into the dirt then and there, but Goro used the opening to put himself between him and Joker, and kept his eyes on the Palace Ruler as he spit out, “Did you <em> really </em> think I would stand by and let you have him?!”</p><p>He wasn’t sure who he was talking to.</p><p>But as Shido recovered, a light burst behind Goro’s back, and he turned.</p><p>Joker was on his feet, the source of the light in his hand and dimming until it solidified into the shape of a star, bright and still twinkling. And Goro recognized it from Sae’s Palace, from seeing Queen and Noir’s attack established firsthand, and having the phenomenon explained to him. But his mind was a pulsing, chaotic blank as he met Joker’s eye through their masks, and realized what it meant.</p><p>Joker mirrored his expression for just a moment, then fell into a smirk. “Together?”</p><p>Goro continued to stare, <em> knowing </em> but too shocked to process– then Shido gave a contemptuous, <em> “You,” </em> at his back, and he laughed. Long and hard and <em> exhilarated, </em> and it should have been a deadly lapse, but the power still humming through him surged black, and must have made Shido hesitate. Goro turned and rushed to close the distance between them, the broken room dissolving around him into a haze of grey and rain and city lights and he didn’t question it, plunging into the blind wish with nothing but Shido in his sights– Shido and <em> Joker, </em> dropping in out of nowhere to steal the first cut. The sight only spurred Goro on, the rage burning hotter in his blood as he brought his sword down on Joker’s back. He <em> knew </em> it would be fine, that the thief would be gone, and his blade found Shido and he swung and swung, screaming things he wasn’t even conscious of, though ‘bastard’ might have been in there somewhere. Just for the bite of irony. </p><p>Then he was breathing out, and suddenly Shido’s screams were behind him. He had cut clean through, panting with the burn in his muscles and the satisfaction in his bones.</p><p>It was so <em> good, </em> though he knew even then that he hadn’t killed him.</p><p>Then there was a click of heels at his back, and a shot.</p><p>Goro whirled around, shock and then fury white-hot as it raced him because <em> how dare </em> Joker hold him back, only to steal his– </p><p>But Shido was still there. On his knees, small and ‘himself’ again, but alive as he clutched a bloody shoulder. The same one Goro had shot when they came in the room.</p><p>Goro wanted to laugh, to ask if it was on purpose. But as the dark cityscape dissolved back into the Palace, the flames dying around them, he felt the call and its power fading from his bones. </p><p>“Joker!! Crow!” With the flames gone Joker’s team shoved in, some standing in between them and Shido while others crowded in too close, Panther taking Goro’s hand and pushing something into his palm before he could pull away. “Here! You’re still hurt, aren’t you?!” </p><p>“Those were some tight moves there, Crow,” Oracle chimed in from over his shoulder. </p><p>Goro glanced back at the Navigator, too thrown to bother with a response, and caught sight in the shift of Noir handing some medicine to Joker as she half-scolded him, “We were so worried!” </p><p>The leader didn’t reply, but granted Noir a quick, strained grin before refocusing forward, his expression growing instantly dark.</p><p>Goro followed his gaze, his own tongue tasting sour as he peered past the rest of the thieves. Queen and Skull were saying something, but Goro missed the point. They were talking to Shido, though, and when they finished, Shido looked at <em> him, </em> pain and reluctance etched through every line of his face as he cradled his shoulder and said, “I… saw what you intended from the start, and took advantage of it to use you, pushed you into crimes and extremes you never would have attempted if not for my manipulation… and intended to blame you for all of it, all to protect myself.” </p><p>…It was disgusting. If not for his tone and clear defeat, it could have been a boast. Even knowing it wasn’t, it made Goro’s stomach roll. </p><p>Then Shido grit his teeth harder and tried to add, “And from the beginning, if I had not approached your mother, or at least–” </p><p>Goro turned his back before he could hear more. “I have no use for your apologies.” No– no, he <em> had </em> wanted them, but not like <em> that. </em> He wanted to crush him, shatter Shido beneath his heel and sneer in his face as he broke down, shocked and enraged and humiliated, suffering the same pain Goro had to endure all his life because of <em> him. </em> To make him… to make Shido <em> look </em> at him.</p><p>But that wasn’t possible. It was <em> never </em> possible. As much as he wanted to blame Joker and the thieves for it, it did not matter if they changed Shido’s heart or killed him. Goro’s wish was gone the moment Shido saw through him. And he hated the proof of that before him, so he turned his back and stepped away. Moved to go.</p><p>Behind him, Skull snapped in his place, “Don’t you have something to say to our <em> leader, </em> too?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p><em> Ah, </em> that was right. They never explained <em> Joker </em> to Shido, did they? There could be something in that, at least. The shock of who <em> he </em> was, who exactly slipped their net and managed to defeat him. To see Shido realize that some high school student he ruined and dismissed months ago was the one who finally dragged him down– </p><p>“Crow.” </p><p>He stopped, just steps away from the group, and turned back.</p><p>Joker was still beside Noir, his red gloves hidden in his pockets and his stance easy as he peered back at Goro. He was too relaxed, he should be looking at Shido, claiming his place and his closure like Skull said, so why was he– “Are you <em> really </em> satisfied?”</p><p>Goro’s mind blanked out, disbelief wiping him clean before the question registered, and frustration filled the gap. “What are you talking about?” The sensation of Shido’s eyes on him burned, but he refused to break his glare from Joker. “I told you, I am <em> done with this. </em> If you want to speak with him, take his treasure or throw your precious justice away and take revenge, then <em> do it yourself–” </em></p><p>“This was your fight long before it was mine,” Joker interrupted. “It should be your call.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“J-Joker–”</p><p>“Is that wise? Given what he has–”</p><p>The others all scrambled to talk over each other, but Joker put a hand up and they all stumbled to a halt, the only sound remaining a pained chuckle from <em> Shido. </em> </p><p>Goro clenched his teeth at the sound and saw Joker’s expression finally shift, his eyes narrowing with a sharp glint. But he kept his attention on Goro as Goro asked, “Do you <em> actually </em> think I have any interest in your hand-picked charity of an ending?” </p><p>He meant to say more, to spit in Joker’s face for his pity. But there was no pity in Joker’s face, only fire, banked and intense, and when he spoke, <em> damn himself, </em> Goro listened. “However it looks, this is your chance. Will you really just throw it away?” <em> Yes, </em> Goro wanted to say, because it <em> wasn’t– </em> but something shifted in Joker’s expression, softened him in a disarming way, and– “Be <em> certain, </em> Crow. This is over either way, and I don’t want you to regret your choice. Don’t be proud.”</p><p>Goro was incensed by the comment, but more confused, not understanding <em> why </em> those words hit him quite like–</p><p>…</p><p><em> Oh, </em> he was going to kill him. Joker wasn’t smirking, didn’t look at all amused, but he absolutely said that on <em> purpose </em> and why the <em> fuck </em> would he reference <em> that </em> <b> <em>now</em> </b> all times?! Did he have <em> no </em> sense of– </p><p>…No. No, of course he didn’t. What was he expecting?</p><p>Goro looked away, dismissed that stupid face and that <em> stupid song, </em> better left in Jazz Jin where it <em> belonged </em> (and he <em> didn’t even quote it right!) </em> and looked at Shido.</p><p>…</p><p><em> “…Tch.” </em> He retraced his steps, moving through the group as he stuffed Panther’s medicine in his pocket and replaced it with his gun. </p><p>There was a ripple effect at the sight of it, sharp breaths and teammates stumbling to speak, but if any of them actually managed a word, Goro didn’t catch it. It didn’t matter. What mattered was <em> Shido. </em> </p><p>Shido, who mirrored his mute derision when Goro stopped before him once more. </p><p>Goro kept his hand lowered, weapon pointed at the ground, but the question of it burned in the air as they stared at one another and Goro contemplated <em> why </em> he was there. </p><p>The deaths. The lies. The face he built like a mask. The ripping of a soul and Loki’s laughter and <em> pain, </em> and blood in the water.</p><p>Mother.</p><p>Goro remembered, considered the familiar weight of the memories, like a well-worn stone in his hand… and decided no. Execution <em> wasn’t </em> enough. It was <em> never </em> enough. Even in his dream, it was always about seeing Shido suffer. About winning. About being <em> enough. </em></p><p>If he could not have that, then Shido’s blood would not fill the hole.</p><p>Goro let himself glare, let himself spit, “I want you to remember this. When you collapse in on yourself, and show the world how pathetic you truly are, I want you to <em> remember </em> somewhere in there that it was I–” Words caught in his throat. He swallowed them. “…and the <em> trash </em> you forgot…” Confusion touched the pain in those golden eyes, and Goro felt it. The burn of eight pairs of eyes on his back. “…and a bunch of <em> kids </em> who brought you to your knees.”</p><p>“Crow…”</p><p>“Akechi-kun, you…”</p><p>Panther and Queen both trailed off, but the feeling shaking in their voices softened Goro’s urge to scoff at himself (What was he doing, <em> monologuing?) </em> and he stood unbending in his sneer until Shido gave way, and bowed his head.</p><p>It was bittersweet, but it was right.</p><p>A light burst above their heads, as if that silent submission were some queue, and Goro looked up to see the great wheel spinning on the ceiling drifting down, shrinking to a size small enough to carry.</p><p><em> Ah. </em> Of course. The answer was obvious once he saw it, but he fought back a grimace as the others questioned it and Shido spouted off more of his usual drivel. Couldn’t the treasure just fall already so they could get this over– </p><p>
  <em> “Gahh!!!” </em>
</p><p>Goro looked down, and startled, his mind a screaming nothing as Shido collapsed completely and disappeared in a rush of– of <em> static?! </em> That wasn’t– And those red shadows, that was <em> not </em> how it looked when– </p><p>“W-what the?!” Oracle cried out, stumbling on the words as the ground shook and the team broke into shouts.</p><p>“W-what happened?!”</p><p>“This isn’t right, is it?! That has never happened–” </p><p><em> “Dude, </em> what did you <em> do?!” </em> </p><p>Goro whirled around and glared at Skull (and caught sight of Joker in his periphery saying nothing, his face blank as he stared at where Shido had been). “I did <em> nothing! </em> I was standing right in front of you! Did you go blind, or–”</p><p>“We don’t have time for this!” Morgana yelled, jumping up in the air between them to draw their attention to him. “Something’s off! We’ve gotta <em> go! </em> Now!!”</p><p>Joker snapped out of whatever reverie he was indulging in and shook his head. <em> “Right.” </em> He jumped up before any of the rest of them could, grabbed the wheel with a flip and landed right beside Goro. “We’ve got the treasure,” he said, pushing the thing into Goro’s chest. “Let’s go.” </p><p>Goro grimaced and tried to push it back, but Joker was gone and it was either catch the thing or drop it. The others were moving, too, screaming and calling out to each other as they bolted for the door, and Goro only had time to curse before taking after them. As he ran, he holstered his unused gun and pulled out that medicine, stuffing it in his mouth to dry swallow it as he ran.</p><p>He suspected he might need it.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> Sakamoto. </em>
</p><p>Goro clenched his teeth against a reaction as he listened to the others cry. Especially Takamaki. The despair in her voice brought up unpleasant memories and he looked away from the girl to try and distract himself. But instead he caught sight of Kurusu, staring at the ground and saying nothing, as usual. But without his glasses, even his overgrown bangs couldn’t hide his face. He wasn’t crying, wasn’t even flinching, but there was a stricken, haunted look to him that spoke of a dam creaking, fighting not to burst. </p><p>Goro hated it.</p><p><em> “Maaaaaan, </em> that was close.”</p><p>
  <em> !! </em>
</p><p>…Idiot.</p><p>Goro frowned with the rest of the group as the supposedly lost blond reappeared so casually, confused by their attitude. Goro shared their disgruntlement perfectly, <em> at first, </em> but then Takamaki responded to Sakamoto’s surprisingly callous insult by <em> slapping </em> him, and where Goro expected mutual shock from the others, they all closed in on Sakamoto as well, the atmosphere turning violent so quickly that it gave <em> him </em> whiplash.</p><p>He looked to Kurusu, expecting <em> some </em> reaction from him, but he was just standing there, looking on with a remote sort of shock more suited for an alarming sight on a news channel than an attack on a friend right in front of him. </p><p>He was just… going to watch, wasn’t he? <em> Honestly, </em> Goro knew how passive Kurusu could be when his team grew particularly stupid or feral, but <em> still– </em></p><p>Goro glanced back, considered Sakamoto’s terror and the increasingly high screech of his voice, and just as the first of the group put their hands on the young man, he decided the entertainment wasn’t worth the certain fallout. “If they kill him, I am not helping you carry or hide the body.” </p><p>Kurusu startled out of his stupor, spent three seconds staring dumbly at <em> him, </em> then turned his focus on the others where it belonged. “Hey. <em> Hey. </em> Guys, <em> back off.” </em> </p><p>Kitagawa – the closest to them and the least aggressive of the group – merely scoffed at the order, but all of the girls turned to their leader, varying degrees of distress and tears on their faces. “But we were worried about him!” Okumura was the first to say, while behind her back Sakamoto collapsed against a streetlight.</p><p>“It is one thing if he did not realize, but to say such things when we– especially when <em> Ann </em> cried for him,” Niijima agreed, while beside her Futaba nodded almost viciously.</p><p>“Even the biggest noob knows not to attack the Cucco if you don’t want the flock to strike”</p><p>What? </p><p>“He probably didn’t realize he had pulled out a sword,” Kurusu said, like that was a perfectly natural and understandable thing to say. In fact, he looked downright amused as he arched a brow at Sakamoto. “Right, Ryuji? Did you not realize we thought you were– dead?”</p><p>If anyone else noticed the catch in Kurusu’s voice, they didn’t show it.</p><p><em> “Uh–” </em> Sakamoto looked uncertainly between all of the girls, then <em> slowly </em> pushed himself upright again, like he was wary to even move. “No? I mean, <em> sorry, </em> I didn’t… You– you guys… really thought I was done for?”</p><p>A loud aggravated sound cracked out of Takamaki’s throat, then the girl was rushing towards Sakamoto. He flinched back like he expected another slap, but Takamaki just pushed at his chest with her hands. “Of <em> course we did, </em> you idiot!! What were we supposed to think after that?! You– you just go and give us a thumbs up like everything is <em> fine, </em> and then everything exploded and you– <em> you–” </em> Her voice was shaking again, and as her words dissolved into another thin hiss, Sakamoto squeezed one eye shut like he expected more physical abuse in place of the verbal.</p><p>“I’m sorry!” he blurted out in a panic, both hands up in the air. “I’m <em> sorry! </em> I didn’t know, alright?! I just– uh. <em> Uh…” </em></p><p>He went quiet, and none of them spoke, because Takamaki’s latest form of expression was tossing herself <em> against </em> Sakamoto’s chest, one hand still banging against his shoulder as the other presumably caught in his blazer. “You stupid– <em> stupid idiot! Why would you… </em> So <em> stupid, </em> Ryuji…” </p><p>Sakamoto’s inspired response was to open and shut his mouth like a fish, his face turning an ugly bright color as his hands hovered over Takamaki’s shoulders as she blubbered on and on without a care. </p><p>
  <em> Honestly. </em>
</p><p>Finally, Sakamoto scavenged enough brain cells to look at <em> them </em> in a clear, mute panic.</p><p>Okumura responded with a gentle, perfectly calm, “Please take responsibility. After saving us so bravely like that, you can at least handle a comforting hug, right?”</p><p>Apparently not, because Sakamoto looked back down at Takamaki’s unaware head and his face turned an even uglier color.</p><p>A quiet hiss rising up from the pavement reminded Goro the cat was there. <em> “W-what are you– </em> Lady Ann!”</p><p>Takamaki gave a loud sniff (Was she sneezing into Sakamoto’s shirt?) and finally pulled back, rubbing at her eyes with a wrist as she blindly pushed Sakamoto one last time. “So <em> stupid.” </em> </p><p>The hit couldn’t have been hard, but Sakamoto nearly fell over.</p><p>But the tension had eased, and Niijima breathed a sigh of relief into the freed air. “Yes, <em> well, </em> I’m glad to see you’re alright, Ryuji.” </p><p>
  <em> “Y-yeah.” </em>
</p><p>“Troublemaker,” Futaba muttered, and while Kurusu gave a quiet chuckle in response, it was Kitagawa who chose to speak up next.</p><p>“Would anyone be interested in getting dinner?”</p><p>“Joker just <em> fed you </em>before we went into the Palace!”</p><p>“Still, it was taxing work,” Kitagawa argued, frowning down on Morgana like he could not understand why the feline was so suddenly upset. The cat certainly looked ready to turn his ire on <em> him </em> though, given the opening, so Goro decided enough was enough and interrupted before Morgana could respond.</p><p>“Whatever we choose to do, we are drawing attention here.” None that he had seen yet actually, but a quick scanning glance said it was only a matter of time before <em> someone </em> came by. Likely suspicious security.</p><p>“We should go,” Kurusu agreed, stepping in to scoop up Morgana and slide him into his bag before he could give more than a yelp in protest. “Let’s get to the station.”</p><p>It was a few minutes walk, but just getting out of sight of the Diet Building pulled some of the tension out of Goro’s back, and he assumed the others felt the same. Behind him Futaba and Kitagawa loudly discussed food and the possibility of station bakery purchases, while ahead of him Niijima and Okumura flanked Takamaki, their body language and tones clearly concerned. At the very front of the group Kurusu walked close to Sakamoto, and they were too far away to track what they were saying, but they were clearly discussing <em> something. </em> At one point, Sakamoto even disrupted his incessant neck scratching to pull Kurusu into a hug, squeezing him to his side before pushing him away again with a laugh. Kurusu’s response was a barely audible chuckle.</p><p>Goro dismissed them in favor of the pavement.</p><p>Takamaki was still sniffling when they found a fairly secure corner of the station, and Sakamoto was still being stupidly awkward and finding everything but their faces captivating. But Kitagawa had his fresh bread, and Niijima was happy to fill in the silence. </p><p>“Well, this is… normally where we would break as quickly as possible and discuss what happened online as we turned in for the evening,” she explained, presumably for Goro’s benefit. As if he had not caught on to that pattern after multiple infiltrations and Mementos runs last month. </p><p>Futaba yawned without covering her mouth and then blinked through a pained expression like the action had hurt. “Too bad Akechi’s phone just went down with the ship.”</p><p>“It was hardly salvageable already,” he pointed out, not appreciating the reminder. </p><p>“We could always meet in person again tomorrow?” Okumura suggested, glancing between them with a hopeful look. “It is Sunday, after all.”</p><p>“After LeBlanc closes for the night,” Kurusu agreed, and the whole lot seemed to deflate with the decision, relieved to have a next step set. Then just as suddenly, they were restless again, eyeing one another in a checking sort of way. Even Takamaki had calmed enough to share their mute, uncertain air, and slowly more and more of them were looking at Goro.</p><p>Goro pretended not to notice, closing his teeth around a response as he stared through them.</p><p>He didn’t want to process it. Not yet. Not in front of them.</p><p>Finally, Morgana spoke up from over Kurusu’s shoulder. “Until then, I… I guess we did it.”</p><p>A couple beats of silence, then Takamaki’s voice wavered up. “Y-yeah. I know it’s not over yet, but… yeah. <em> We did it.” </em></p><p>They had. The fallout still remained, the confession, but in a very real sense, it <em> was </em> over.</p><p>Slowly the others started to smile, to turn to one another and talk and even smile a bit in a tentative sort of way. </p><p>Except Goro. He remained as he was, numb, suddenly and acutely aware that he had no idea what came next. </p><p>Bed, presumably. Then waiting. </p><p>It wasn’t attractive.</p><p>But as he mulled over it, he realized one person <em> hadn’t </em> stopped looking at him. </p><p>He met Kurusu’s eye, saw him unsmiling, too, and didn’t look away.</p><p>Kurusu stared back, but didn’t say anything.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> “You’re the same as Ryuji!!” </em>
</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Sakura asked, quite reasonably baffled by Futaba’s outburst.</p><p>“I take it there was a commotion here while we were gone?” Goro asked before the girl could answer, shifting his feet when his heel hit one of the broken plates on the cafe floor. LeBlanc was in shambles. Just moments ago, Futaba had been sobbing for a second time that night while Kurusu stood in the middle of the destroyed room mute as a zombie, <em> hopefully </em> regretting just how reckless he had been with that calling card when his identity was already semi-public knowledge. They were lucky Sakura walked into the room when he did, giving them only a few moments to fear for his life. Thankfully he truly did seem to be in one piece, and emotionally untroubled as he described his short-lived abduction. Kurusu also seemed quickly himself again as he casually responded to Sakura’s questions, and even Goro had to admit to some satisfaction when Sakura described the disarray he witnessed amid Shido’s cronies.</p><p>“Looks like it’s going well.”</p><p><em> Apparently, </em> Goro silently agreed with the cat, and it <em> was </em> promising that the conspirators had favored cutting a problem like Sakura loose over blotting him out, but they <em> could </em> still try again. Especially if they caught on to Goro being present. </p><p>Which, on that, would his apartment look any better than LeBlanc?</p><p>Goro grimaced just thinking about it as he looked about at the cafe again, and Sakura’s tone perfectly mirrored his thoughts as he said, “They really did a number on this place.” Sakura sighed and rubbed his neck, then looked around at the teens. He focused on Goro last, with a thoughtfulness that was surprisingly neutral, before giving the lot of them an apologetic look. “I know you all must be tired, but I need you to help me clean before you go to bed.” </p><p>“Of course. I would have assumed that was a given,” Goro said where the other two simply nodded, putting on his usual easy politeness for the cafe owner. It was oddly comforting to do in a way, like the ground going steady beneath his feet. “I may need some guidance however on where the cleaning supplies are.” </p><p>“I’ll show you the mop and brooms and get the trash bags,” Kurusu offered, stepping carefully over the mess to lead Goro towards the bathroom. “You got pickup handled, Futaba?”</p><p>“Why do I have to do the heavy lifting?!”</p><p>Kurusu pretended not to hear her. </p><p>Grumbling aside, the four tackled the job fairly efficiently, Kurusu trusting Goro to clear the floor while he made trips back and forth to the dumpster, Sakura put things away behind the counter, and Futaba sorted the various newspapers and other things piled on the booth tables. That didn’t mean it was quick, though, or unstrenuous, and as they worked the news playing on the television was quick to remind Goro what happened that day with its commentaries and sound bites and election updates.</p><p><em> The election. </em> Would Shido crack before it was over? Kurusu said that past Palace Rulers tended to make their confessions around the time they gave the thieves deadline threats or ultimatums, as though something about the dates triggered their guilt past a breaking point. But Shido had not given them anything like that – he would never give a target a chance to wiggle out like that on purpose – so the only thing that stood out as a potential time marker was the election.</p><p>Weeks. That was <em> three weeks </em> away. Would Shido really come out after all of that time and say something? Would his co-conspirators let him? Could Goro endure waiting that long to find out? He had once been willing to stew for years to get what he wanted, but <em> now… </em></p><p><em> “Ughhh,” </em> Futaba groaned some time later, the sound muffled by the countertop she had her face plastered to. “I can’t feel my arms.”</p><p>“Come on, I’m trying to clean,” Sakura said, wiping around the girl’s head as well as he could while he nursed a cigarette with his free hand. The smell was giving Goro a headache without the usual scent of brewing coffee, but he let his irritation drift away with the smoke as he sat in his usual spot, resting his elbow on the counter and letting the quiet sound of the television fill his ears.</p><p>
  <em> “–cancelled his appearance with the local station, and will be delaying his speech in Shibuya Square tomorrow–” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “There has been no direct statement since this afternoon, but those close to the representative say that he is–” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Given his across-the-board popularity, it is unlikely this delay will negatively impact–”  </em>
</p><p>“That should be the last of it,” Kurusu announced, the bell belatedly marking his return as he shut the cafe door behind him. “If there’s any more trash, I can take it out in the morning with the usual load.”</p><p>“That’s fine,” Sakura answered, tossing his cleaning rag behind the counter and putting his cigarette out in an ashtray. “You’ve all done more than enough for tonight. I know it’s too late to hit the bathhouse or get the stove going again, but there’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want them. Akechi, we’ll go by your place tomorrow as soon as the morning rush is over.” </p><p>“There is no need for that,” Goro said, smiling as he lifted his head. The knowing look Sakura shot him said the light didn’t reach his eyes, but as long as Sakura didn’t call him out on it, he didn’t care. “I would not be surprised if my place was under surveillance. Given what happened here, I do not think it would be wise to take the risk.” He could easily make due for the time being by buying new materials as needed… assuming it was safe to pull funds to do so, that is. He had money Shido wasn’t <em> supposed </em> to know about, but– </p><p>“That’s what I’m here for,” Futaba said, and Goro looked over to see she’d propped her chin up on her arms, and she was grinning smugly at him. “I was already on it when Sojiro mentioned the trip yesterday. You can come and go to your apartment all you want, no problem! Just make sure to give me a heads up and leave me in the loop.” </p><p>That was… surprising. And convenient. And brought up some very obvious questions about what the younger Sakura knew about Goro’s apartment.</p><p>“Yeah, well, we can figure that stuff out in the morning,” Sakura Sojiro said, clearly wanting to dismiss the subject. “For now, we should get you to bed, young lady, and no hopping onto your computer the second I head to bed. Not tonight.” </p><p>While she let out a long whine of a sound, Futaba stood up with no further protest. She turned to the booth chair beside hers to grab the dozing Morgana by the face and squeeze. The cat let out a predictably shrill sound at harsh awakening, but Futaba just snickered, scratched his ears, and moved to leave with a cheery, “Good night!” </p><p>“Good night,” Kurusu echoed from the kitchen – Goro hadn’t even noticed him back there, until he spoke up – and Futaba paused, her expression suddenly distressed as she turned back and peered at her fellow ward. </p><p>Kurusu didn’t notice, his back still turned, but <em> Sakura </em> did once he finished putting on his coat, and <em> he </em> asked, “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Futaba didn’t really respond, giving her guardian a quick, anxious look before frowning at Kurusu again. Kurusu had turned around at Sakura’s question, and when they locked eyes, Futaba instantly blurted out, “Are you going to be alright?”</p><p>For one whole sweet, ignorant moment, Goro did not understand. Then the obvious broke through his exhaustion and he clamped down on the urge to laugh, knowing how brittle – or bitter – it would sound. Of course, why <em> wouldn’t </em> Futaba be concerned? The odd ones were Sakura, for eyeing him with merely <em> mild </em> concern that evening, and Kurusu. </p><p>Kurusu had seemed just as confused as Goro at first, but that gave way to a far too easy smile. “Definitely,” he said, again far too easily. “I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I wasn’t comfortable, Futaba.”</p><p>Kurusu was willing to agree to a <em> number </em> of uncomfortable things, if Goro had reversed engineered their trick at Sae’s Palace correctly, but he kept his doubts to himself as Futaba looked from him to Kurusu and back, clearly torn. <em> “Still, that’s… </em> You’re <em> sure </em> it’s okay?” Wait, why was she looking at <em> Goro </em> when she said that? “I mean, I know you’re both not stupid. <em> Technically. </em> But are you <em> really </em> okay with being alone together?” </p><p>For some reason, Kurusu gave a sharp, amused snort. Goro chose not to acknowledge it. “I believe we can handle a few hours alone without incident,” he told the hacker, not bothering to drag his tone up from a flat line. “Especially given we will be unconscious for the majority of that time.” Hopefully.</p><p>Futaba’s frown said she was either unconvinced, or didn’t appreciate his tone. But either way Morgana reminded them all of his presence by piping up. “Don’t worry, Futaba! I’m here too, remember? I can handle these two if anything happens!”</p><p>“Doubtful.” Futaba’s answer was so instant and flat that Goro’s would-have-been outrage died in a smirk.</p><p><em> “Hey!” </em> the cat squawked, glaring at the girl with raised fur before starting into a spiel Goro quickly ignored. It didn’t go far anyways, as the cafe owner sighed and spoke up midway through some complaint. </p><p>“Come on. Awkwardness aside, this is how it’s going to be for a while. They’ll just have to get used to it.” Then he opened the door, tipping his hat towards Kurusu as Futaba obliged him and walked through. “I’ll trust you to keep the place and one another in one piece.”</p><p>“Thanks, Boss,” Kurusu said, his smile a lazy sort that reminded Goro of late summer. “We’ll see you in the morning.”</p><p>“No drama while I’m gone!”</p><p>Sakura shut the door, cutting off Futaba’s call before it was even fully out. </p><p>Then it was just them.</p><p>Plus the cat, who jumped up on the counter the second Sakura was gone to shoot Kurusu a pointed look. “We <em> should </em> probably go ahead and get some sleep, <em> right?” </em></p><p>Kurusu shrugged. “I’m hungry.” Morgana clearly didn’t like that answer, but the thief turned his back on him and retreated to the kitchen. “You want some curry, Akechi? The leftovers warm up pretty well.”</p><p>“I am fine,” he answered, watching Kurusu go and listening as he opened the fridge, trying to ignore the twist in his stomach as he considered just how <em> surreal </em> it all felt. Too easy. Too casual. It dragged at his mood to consider it, and when Morgana turned curious eyes on him, he looked away, openly dismissing him in favor of the television. </p><p>Shido was on it.</p><p>It was an old clip, some speech he gave months ago, the text scrolling at the bottom mentioning the calling card from last night. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, actually seeing him, but Goro still found himself staring. Caught off guard by the voice and face, he fought against a sudden urge to throw one of the coffee bean jars into the screen.</p><p>The television shut off.</p><p>Goro started, then looked across the room. </p><p>Kurusu was already walking back into the kitchen, tossing the remote control onto a shelf.</p><p>Goro watched him go, breathed out… and looked down at his hand, willing his hand to unclench.</p><p>“It’s okay if you’re upset, you know.”</p><p>…He looked to the side, and eyed Morgana out of the corner of his eye. </p><p>He would have liked to have said the feline flinched, ran away, at least wilted with regret for spouting such unwarranted platitudes, but Morgana just met his eye, <em> sighed, </em>and curled up to tuck his nose into his fur. </p><p>Goro relaxed back into a frown once he was unobserved, but there was no real comfort in being left alone. <em> Peace, </em> perhaps, but Goro could find none of the solace he had known before in that room. The cafe had been a retreat once, with its out-of-the-way location and unobtrusive owner and the occasional spark of a thief, when he happened to come home or be working while Goro was there. But that comfort was long gone, had gone missing well before that evening. Was it… October? As far back as September? When did the likelihood of Kurusu’s death become inevitable? Goro couldn’t recall a specific date, but he knew that when he was at LeBlanc before, as a ‘thief’ himself, he was already mourning the retreat. Strange, the impression a place could make so quickly.</p><p>Not that it mattered. Goro was there, for better or ill. And Kurusu wasn’t gone. </p><p>He didn’t know how he felt about that. Maybe thirty-six hours ago, the revelation had him seeing red, but the rage had been sapped out of him like a poison, and without it Goro felt… empty. Like there was nothing left inside of him, or at least nothing he was willing to acknowledge. He wished Kurusu hadn’t decided to eat, that they had gone ahead to bed. Goro didn’t want to be awake, still thinking. But like hell he would admit to weakness by going to bed first.</p><p>And, <em> well, </em> he wasn’t certain where he was sleeping that night.</p><p>Kurusu soon returned, putting a small plate down near Morgana before leaning over the counter to eat his own curry right out of a plastic container. Goro’s nose wrinkled at the sight, but Kurusu’s attention was on the cat, and Goro returned the dismissal, staring pointedly at the back wall as Morgana yawned and stretched and ate and thanked his keeper for the food. Kurusu dismissed the thanks, and after a few dragging minutes where they both ate in silence, cleaned up to wash the dishes. The cat talked at his back as he went to the sink, enabled by Kurusu’s occasional glance and short response, and Goro got the distinct feeling he was witnessing a regular routine, one that he had no part in. It was enough to make him <em> actually </em> contemplate retreating upstairs, at least until Morgana mentioned something about, “You should have just called Kawakami, she could have–” </p><p>Kurusu startled so badly he dropped a plate, barely catching it before it hit the floor.</p><p>Goro arched his brow, the expression sticking when he caught Kurusu tossing a furtive look at <em> him </em> before refocusing on Morgana. “That wasn’t necessary. We got through the cleaning fine without her.”</p><p>“I know!” Morgana snapped, frowning like he didn’t understand– no, like he was <em> frustrated </em> by Kurusu’s response. The cat tossed Goro a quick look, too, and the discontent in his blue eyes was odd, adding to Goro’s curiosity as he said, “But you’ve been pushing yourself way too much this week! Just promise me you’ll call her if we do anything else that extreme next week. I know you feel guilty since she won’t accept money anymore, but–”</p><p><em> “No.” </em> That wasn’t just a refusal. That was a ‘stop talking right now’ warning, paired with a look Goro rarely saw from Kurusu outside of the Metaverse. And Morgana clearly didn’t like having it pointed at <em> him. </em></p><p>Goro considered the two teammates, and the tension in the room, ready to spark at the first breath of wind, and decided to toss in a match. “I believe I might be missing something, but is ‘Kawakami’ not the name of your homeroom teacher, Kurusu?”</p><p>Two heads of black fluff turned to him, silence hung in the air, then Morgana turned back to Kurusu, clearly meaning to delegate the response to him. </p><p>Kurusu didn’t give one, staring at Goro with his blankest expression – the one Goro had once liked best, because it always made him wonder what was behind it – before retreating to the kitchen. </p><p>Morgana sighed again.</p><p>When Kurusu came back a few seconds later, he went straight to the coffee maker and started brewing, not looking at the cat. Or Goro.</p><p>Once upon a time, the reaction would have been a gold mine. But the tease that occurred to him felt out of place, like it wouldn’t work now that they had seen him beyond the face of a detective, and Goro swallowed it back with grimace.</p><p>A grimace <em> the cat </em> apparently caught, because suddenly he was all unwanted concern again. “Hey, Akechi, <em> are you…” </em> </p><p>…Goro eyed him, considered letting Morgana’s lost words go, forever unknown, but couldn’t help himself. “What?”</p><p>But Morgana didn’t reward his allowance. He opened his little feline mouth, let it hang open stupidly, then wilted in defeat. And just when Goro thought he might at <em> least </em> consider himself freed from his attentions for a while, the cat gave a little jolt and beamed up at him like he had solved some great mystery. “Hey! Whatever happened to Shido’s treasure? I know you got it out, but you never showed it to us!”</p><p>
  <em> Ah. </em>
</p><p>Morgana tensed, his face dropping at whatever he saw on Goro’, but Goro was already staring through him, reminded of the small object in his jeans pocket. He pulled it out, holding it in his palm under the dim cafe lights so he could consider the fake gold.</p><p>“Uh… what is it?”</p><p>“A legislator’s pin.” Goro recognized it easily, saw it on Shido’s lapel every day for years. His ‘badge of honor’ as he might say, though there was nothing honorable in the thing or what it represented or the man who wore it. <em> Shido– </em> that duplicity of his had long been a source of comfort to Goro, validating his anger, every fantasy he ever had about taking him down.</p><p>And now he had. Or <em> would, </em> in time. His collapse was as certain now as a mental shutdown. And Goro had seen his defeat, <em> caused </em> it by his own hand. </p><p>And yet, staring at the thing, the emotion that rushed into the empty void of his exhaustion was a familiar, blood red rage.</p><p>“H-h-<em> hey!” </em> the cat cried, but Goro didn’t look back, tossing himself out of his chair and across the room. The bell rang like an alarm as he unlocked and yanked the door open, and it was still chiming when he took two steps out onto the street and chucked the pin as hard as he could into the sky.</p><p>There was a clang somewhere in the distance – it probably hit the bathhouse roof – and a couple of passing drunks stalled mid-laugh to gawk at him. But they were just peripheral facts that Goro easily ignored, and he went right back inside, slamming the door with another <em> clang! </em></p><p>“Y-you– Are you sure about that?!” </p><p>“I would have preferred the garbage disposal,” Goro said, each word clipped as he relocked the door. “But Sakura-san would likely not appreciate the damage to his property.” </p><p>“T-that’s not what I meant.”</p><p>He knew perfectly well what the cat meant, but if Morgana had even half a brain, he would know not to ask something so stupid. How could Goro regret tossing that thing? All he thought when he considered the gold caught in some drainpipe or between some shingles was ‘Good riddance’. </p><p>But when he turned around, he found Morgana and Kurusu, a finished coffee in his hand, both staring at him. They watched him do that. It was certainly not the most remarkable or dramatic thing Goro had done in their sight in the last two days, but the sensation of being seen belatedly scratched up his neck anyways, and he hated it. He stared back at them, fighting back the urge to glare or snap or do <em> anything </em> that might come off as defensive. No, he stayed silent, challenging them without a word to say something.</p><p>Morgana looked ready to, but Kurusu moved first, setting the coffee down in Goro’s usual spot. “It’s decaf.”</p><p>‘I should hope so.’ The response caught on Goro’s tongue, sat there as he stared at the steaming cup. But he didn’t approach it, didn’t move, and was only belatedly aware that some exchange had occurred between Kurusu and Morgana when the cat sighed again, prompting Goro to look up. Morgana was shooting Kurusu a look, earning not even a blink in return, and after a beat he jumped off of the counter. </p><p>“I’m tired of waiting, I’m going up,” the cat announced, already making for the stairs. “But don’t stay up much longer! We have a lot to do tomorrow!”</p><p>That was an excuse if ever Goro heard one, but the practical order in the words made lingering downstairs seem suddenly far more attractive. </p><p>Besides, Kurusu clearly wanted to talk.</p><p>Goro turned hard eyes on the other teen, bracing himself for whatever <em> this </em> might be, but Kurusu had already turned away from him. He was making coffee again, presumably for himself, perhaps <em> with </em> caffeine this time to help power him through whatever he meant to say. If so, it was cruel of him not to offer Goro the same luxury. His own waiting brew was likely still delicious, as it always was, but while Goro sat down and cupped the cup between his covered palms, he didn’t lift it. Just felt the warmth through his gloves as he mentally ran through every possible thing Kurusu might have to say. It could be anything really, from what Goro just did to what he tried to do a week ago, to something else altogether. And while he presumed each of a hundred things, Goro knew to be prepared for a surprise. The <em> only </em> thing he could expect from Kurusu Akira was the unexpected.</p><p>Eventually, Kurusu finished his brew, and he quickly wiped down the equipment before taking a careful, wary sip, humming in approval, and carrying it over to where Goro sat. Goro tensed at the approach, careful to bury and mask his reaction as Kurusu leaned his elbows on the counter right in front of him. Once still, Kurusu breathed out a slow breath, put down his coffee… and reached for one of the books perched on the counter.</p><p>…What?</p><p>Goro stared, watching Kurusu thumb to a specific page and start reading, holding the book in one hand as he sipped his coffee with the other, and… <em> what </em> was he doing? He looked like he was settling in, keeping himself busy while he waited for something to happen. But, Goro was waiting on <em> him, </em> so what– </p><p>His hands twitched on the cup, and he laid them flat on the counter to keep from breaking the porcelain or burning himself. Kurusu was playing with him. Goro wasn’t fully certain <em> how, </em> but there was nothing genuine about this display. Kurusu was just as exhausted as he was, maybe even more so, going by the dark lines clearly visible under his eyes, since he didn’t have his glasses to mask them. He should be <em> asleep, </em> but he was lingering downstairs, and hovering very pointedly over <em> him </em> when there were a dozen proper places to sit in the room. Kurusu wanted– no, <em> expected </em> something, and he wasn’t just waiting for Goro to go to bed. </p><p>And to top it off, he hadn’t even <em> looked </em> at Goro since the cat left!</p><p>The last point was just too much, and though he hated himself for it – Kurusu was clearly <em> expecting </em> him to do it – Goro eventually swallowed his pride, eyed the book, and asked, “What are you reading?”</p><p>“‘Knowing the Heart,” Kurusu said, still not looking up. “I don’t know if there’s much point to it now, but I think it might help us in the Metaverse.”</p><p>…Damn him, that sounded sincere. And interesting. “How so?” </p><p>“It’s just a feeling.” Kurusu turned a page, then tilted the book so Goro could see a diagram of connected keywords, just clear enough to draw the eye. “Things I learn on this side carry over sometimes, and Morgana thinks this might make ailments more useful.”</p><p>Goro arched a brow and leaned closer, trying to read upside down. “Technical damage, you mean? As in when we physically attack an enemy that has been frozen or shocked?”</p><p>“Basically. But this would unlock new ways to knock down enemies, with new combos.”</p><p>“Curious.” Goro tapped his chin, rushing through a mental list of all of the ailments he knew of and trying to predict which combinations could logically be expanded on. Would it be a further expansion of Queen and Noir’s utility with their elements, something logical like Mona’s wind increasing the damage of fire, or something less tangible? The Metaverse did have a way of making abstract concepts more literal. “If this proves to be successful, I would be curious to know how exactly that book grants you this expanded power, and if it can be passed along to your team without them directly reading about it. And does this somehow change the physics of the Metaverse, or could you have stumbled upon this revelation naturally by experimentation without having read anything?”</p><p>He didn’t look up to check, but Goro thought Kurusu might be smiling. “Can’t be the last if it’s using any ailments or attacks we already know. We’ve tried it all at this point.” </p><p>“Then it would have to be the book,” Goro decided. “Or specific knowledge contained within it, but I have never known reading material to change abilities in the Metaverse in that way. I wonder how it works.”</p><p>“No idea,” Kurusu answered. “And we might not get a chance to test it at this point. But I could loan it to you, if you want to read it. See if you spot something.” </p><p>Perhaps he might, but before Goro could even contemplate the attraction of such an offer, Kurusu shut the book, set it down, and folded his arms over it. </p><p>When Goro looked obligingly up, he found Kurusu looking him straight in the eye. “Is that really what you want to talk about, though?”</p><p>Goro tensed, caught in a gaze far too mild to be so intense. But he <em> was </em> caught, and through the tide washing away his thoughts, he noted that <em> this </em> was why they were still there. Kurusu didn’t say anything, but it was clear by the concern shining shamelessly on his face. He had no questions for him, this was no interrogation on his actions that day, or last week, or any of the countless crimes Goro committed, or the lingering threats he knew about. This was… ‘support’. The cat’s unwanted concern wrapped in different packaging. </p><p><em> Pity. </em> That was what it was, wasn’t it? He had seen it painted on all of their faces when they fought one another on the ship. <em> After </em> they thought. It was what made their offer so hard to accept, even if he… </p><p>But, it stung so much worse, coming from <em> him. </em></p><p>Goro fought back, then ultimately allowed a grimace to slide out, twist openly across his face as he looked away… and reached up to take off his glasses. <em> Kurusu’s </em> glasses. He folded them and put them on the counter, then took off the baseball cap, as well. He kept <em> that </em> in his lap, crunching the golden ‘HERO’ under his palm. “Why?” There was no immediate response, so he glared up into the question on Kurusu’s face. <em> “Why </em> are you doing this?”</p><p>Kurusu’s lips thinned, a tiny hint of the fire he hid sparking in his eye, but he looked primarily uncertain. “I thought you needed to talk–”</p><p>“Why do you <em> care?” </em> Goro interrupted, tossing the smashed hat onto a neighboring seat. “Why do you keep– supporting me? Standing up for me? Why did you not take your own revenge– <em> why did you save me?” </em></p><p>Why did <em> he </em> save Kurusu? </p><p>The question shot through Goro’s mind, an obvious counter, and panic threatened to crack him at the thought of Kurusu going smug and tossing it back at him. </p><p>But Kurusu was, again, unpredictable. His face went hard at the onslaught of questions, but he soon grew cool, not hot, considering Goro in a way that made him feel exposed. He hated it, and hated that he didn’t hate it more, and he let the frustration fuel him. When Kurusu tried to argue, “We all offered to welcome you to the team after we fought–” Goro rolled right over him with, “Even the others, their allowance and acceptance is incomprehensible as well.” Unless, <em> again, </em> it was <em> pity. </em> “But they haven’t gone even half as far as you have!” Even though Kurusu had perhaps the <em> most </em> reason to hate him, to not trust him, to deny him his time or home or attention. And yet, he kept fighting. He was <em> there. “Why?” </em></p><p>Why? </p><p>He was certain he already had the answer – the word twisted in his gut again, so disgusting he wanted to vomit – but he wanted Kurusu to say it. smit it. Prove Goro <em> right. </em></p><p>Kurusu wasn’t quick to give him anything. He continued to look at him, weighing him in that silent way of his. Except, something had shifted. He was too still, too blank, the eyes searching Goro’s less probing than– checking? <em> Wary? </em> The change was subtle, but enough that some of Goro’s tension slipped, replaced by curiosity. Why was Kurusu so… </p><p>Finally, Kurusu broke their gaze, setting down his coffee and choosing to stare at it as he tapped the handle. “There isn’t one ‘why’. There are a lot of reasons. Some more obvious than others, some… personal. Selfish even. Maybe.”</p><p>Goro’s brows rose. “Oh?” </p><p>“But the <em> main </em> one,” Kurusu insisted, looking up with a determined look that made his face hard again. “I already told you. At the diner.” </p><p>Right. Kurusu’s little speech. It seemed almost surreal in retrospect, especially now that Kurusu had reverted to the reserved, few worded man Goro knew best, more prone to short answers and prompted responses than any spiels. His wordiness earlier that day had been nearly as shocking as his claims, and reminded Goro of the first time they walked into the Metaverse together, and he interacted with <em> Joker. </em> He had seen that spark in Kurusu that day in the tv station, found it just as intriguing as the student’s likely link to the Phantom Thieves. Goro spent months trying to prod and coax it out, bring that confidence and competitive fire to the surface however he could, and to see that light on full display in the Metaverse via <em> Joker </em> had been something of a rush. </p><p>He felt a similar rush at the diner, gaining more words and honest thoughts from Kurusu in a single sitting than he had in months. It was buried beneath the weight of what they were talking about, of <em> Shido, </em> but it was there all the same. </p><p>Perhaps that was why Goro was less skeptical and more curious when he pressed, <em> “And? </em> What are the personal?” </p><p>Kurusu’s lips twitched, something too friendly in his eyes. “We still have a promise to keep.” </p><p>Goro was confused– and then <em> not, </em> delight rushing through him and then frustrating him. To think Kurusu would reference <em> that. </em> “Is <em> that </em> all?” he scoffed, leaning back and willing the heat in his chest to not touch his cheeks. “How is <em> that </em> what you think of?” </p><p>Perhaps he covered it fine, because Kurusu looked mildly surprised, not smug. “Did you not mean it?” He leaned back himself, reaching up to tug at his bangs before abruptly stuffing the same hand in his pocket– perhaps to fight the impulse? “If you didn’t, I could give the glove back. It’s pretty pointless without the mate if it doesn’t mean anything.”</p><p>“That’s <em> not </em> what I meant,” Goro insisted, fighting for his composure (he <em> kept </em> it??) until he could glare at Kurusu without feeling self-conscious. “What I <em> mean </em> is, was there another ‘personal’ reason? You mentioned it in the plural.” And keeping their promise hardly seemed selfish.</p><p>It was a defensive question more than anything, hastily tossed out, and yet Kurusu froze. Not like he was shocked, but like he had expected it. Dreaded the question. It caught Goro’s focus, drew him in again, the need for distractions forgotten as he found himself pleasantly on the offensive again, watching Kurusu as his face shifted through the tiniest of changes, hinting at the conflict beneath. And this time he didn’t surface on his own. He broke their gaze, glancing at the attic stairs in open want. </p><p>It was shocking, and <em> delightful, </em> and not allowed. Goro relaxed forward, resting both elbows on the counter as he peered into his rival’s face. “Well?” </p><p>Kurusu glanced back, eyed Goro like an animal he wasn’t sure he should approach, and Goro waited, covering the feral smile that wanted to rise with a perfect rendition of the patient detective. </p><p>Whether it was due to the look, or because he saw through it, or something else, Kurusu relaxed. He turned back, and there was a heaviness to his expression, something like determination. Or resignation. Either way, he peered back at Goro with that look for quite a while, so long that Goro began to wonder if he would break the silence at all. </p><p>Then Kurusu spoke. “I like you.” </p><p>…</p><p>Goro didn’t react, his mind catching on the words as <b> <em>too much</em> </b> and skipping right over them to assess. </p><p>Kurusu was serious. His entire demeanor, the hesitation to speak, his current manner, still and waiting and <em> stiff </em> like he was bracing himself, because he knew full well how that would sound– <em> How could it sound anything but– </em> “I killed you.”</p><p>“I know.”  </p><p>Then how could he– it <em> had </em> to be a trick. Kurusu had managed it before, pulled the wool over his eyes and played him for a fool before, and that was the <em> only </em> way this could possibly– “I <em> wanted </em> to kill you.”</p><p>Tired. <em> That </em> was the look on Kurusu’s face. “I know.”</p><p>No, he <em> didn’t </em> know. He couldn’t know, or it was a trick. Those were the only options!</p><p>Though if Kurusu <em> was </em> sincere that would certainly <b> <em> answer Goro’s uncertainty!</em> </b> He hadn’t– Kurusu never said, but Yoshizawa and he had seemed– and Goro had been around the thieves long enough to overhear Sakamoto’s casual mentions of women, to witness Kurusu’s passive agreement and own interest. Was that just him <em> playing along, </em> or did he also– Goro had <em> wondered </em> once or twice (or a thousand times) about Kurusu’s reactions to his invitations, to his comments, the way he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of him when they were together. But if Kurusu <em> knew </em> all along as the cat claimed, was that not just <em> suspicion?! </em></p><p>Apparently not.</p><p>But Goro wasn’t thinking about that. He had <em> never </em> let himself think about that, had stuffed those thoughts directly in a box marked <b>DO NOT TOUCH</b> until it was fit to bursting, then dropped the whole thing in wet cement when he decided the only logical course of action was to put a bullet in Kurusu’s head.</p><p>And he had. He had <em> done that. </em></p><p>“I put a gun to your head,” he said, enunciating each word carefully so perhaps at least <em> they </em> would get through Kurusu’s thick skull. “And I <em> pulled the trigger.” </em> He clutched the edge of the counter to keep from jumping over it, from grabbing that calm, unflappable mess of a man by the neck and shaking him until sense or teeth fell out. “I tried to kill you. I thought I <em> had </em> killed you, and I <em> enjoyed it.” </em></p><p>“I <em> know,” </em> Kurusu said again. “I was there.” And finally he deigned to emote, but only to <em> smirk at him! </em> And it didn’t even touch his eyes! They remained tired and humorless, and something about that was more infuriating than all the rest. Kurusu just– <em> shrugged! </em> Stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the shelves in the wall like it was <em> nothing! </em> “Or, not literally, but still–”</p><p>“I <em> lied to you!” </em> Goro slapped the counter, barely felt it, but he had to get to his feet, had to stand up to face the <em> audacity </em> of that– <em> How dare he make light of this?! </em> “I was lying to you the whole time!”</p><p>“Knew that, too–”</p><p>“Except when I said that I <em> hate you!” </em></p><p>…That worked. Kurusu’s parroting stopped. He said nothing, and proved his expression wasn’t blank by going <em> truly </em> blank.</p><p>And that was wrong. Goro knew what he was saying was wrong. He hated Morgana for calling him out on it, and hated Kurusu for it <em> not </em> being true, but it was just so easy. It was so <em> easy </em> to fall into that rage, to use it against Kurusu’s insanity. And something about how unreadable Kurusu was being (he had <em> never </em> needed those glasses to hide) was setting off alarms in Goro’s head, but he just <em> had </em> to keep digging– “Do you think I didn’t mean that?!”</p><p>“I know you did,” Kurusu answered, far too easily. Simply. Like he believed it.</p><p>The heat in Goro’s veins turned to ice.</p><p>He… he didn’t, how could he– the <em> cat </em> knew that was a lie, how could <em> Kurusu </em> not– “Then <b> <em>why?!”</em> </b> he snapped, fighting back the fear, the panic rising up his throat and burning his eyes, he was <em> not </em> going to– “You don’t even <em> know me!” </em></p><p>There. <em> Finally, </em> Kurusu looked at him properly. And for some reason, he looked thoroughly unamused, like <em> Goro </em> was somehow the idiot in the room. It would have sent him instantly spitting if the relief of any reaction at all hadn’t slowed him, and Kurusu took the opening to speak. “Do you not like darts?”</p><p>…What?</p><p>“Or crosswords?” he went on, slowly peeling himself off of the wall to take a couple steps closer, still well out of arm’s reach of the counter. “Or coffee? Or jazz music? Billiards or chess or winning, attention and discussing books and showing off by quoting dead men–”</p><p><em> “What is your point?” </em> Goro hissed, hating the confused heat that hit his face, how Kurusu kept <em> looking </em> at him like that.</p><p>“Don’t you hate losing?” he asked, as if Goro never spoke. “And not knowing things? And missing a chance for a game, or being exposed or seen against your will?” And a smile had almost, <em> almost </em> touched Kurusu’s face, but then he was blank again, pausing, visibly sliding into an easy, “And me?” </p><p>…</p><p>He should correct it. Take it back. Make sure Kurusu was actually making fun of how transparent Goro was, even if Kurusu looked like he really…</p><p>Goro forced his mouth to move. “Those are… details.”</p><p>“Details that are true,” Kurusu insisted, not missing a beat. “Details that make you up.”</p><p>“How very shallow.” Goro glowered, finding his footing and relaxing into it, just as Kurusu seemed to be. “Do you really think my hobbies and preferences are what define me? What I <em> am </em> is a goal.” Was a goal. “An intention, one I refused to show you until yesterday. And that has <em> not </em> changed.”</p><p>A dodge, and this time, Goro knew they both knew it. And Kurusu didn’t call him out on it, but there was a confident edge to his gaze that made Goro want to hit him. “And now? You think I don’t know you by now?”</p><p>Apparently not, if he had failed to see through Goro in such a key way. But the thought of saying so made his throat close up, made him recall what their entire inane debate was even <em> about. </em> The dizzy rush that had struck him at Kurusu’s  confession slammed through him again, full force, and Goro curled his fingers against the counter and stared at his hands to center himself, make sense of his balance. “What are you… are you <em> expecting me </em> to–”</p><p><b><em>“No.”</em></b> Goro’s head whipped up, and his mind went empty. Kurusu had started forward with the word, only to catch himself and retreat back nearly against the wall again as he looked away, towards the stairs, his face suddenly so open and anxious and doubting and he– “No,” he repeated, visibly trying to gather himself. When he had, and looked at him again, there was a restlessness in his gaze that put Goro in mind of a foot in a door. “I don’t expect anything.”</p><p>And he didn’t. He really didn’t. That was why he was so calm about it. Kurusu acted so unsurprised, like he had nothing to lose by confessing such a thing, because he had <em> nothing to lose. </em></p><p>Goro’s fingers twitched on the counter, and there was an urge there, to– something. Do <em> something. </em> He couldn’t just sit there, but… but every impulse that hit him was more terrifying than the revelation, more insane. “Then why?” he breathed, his voice sounding so stupidly strangled. “If you don’t, why did you…”</p><p>…Kurusu seemed to relax at the question. Or wilt. Either way, his face relaxed, his shoulders sloped, and then one hitched back up in a shrug. “You asked.”</p><p>He had. </p><p>Goro had no response for that, though, and Kurusu looked away, looked at the stairs in a far more casual way than before. He spoke almost as if to them as he filled the silence. “I’ve been around you a lot since yesterday. Not that long, but enough. You’re different in some ways, but if you call the person I’ve known these last few months a ‘lie’, then you must have put a lot of truth into that lie.”</p><p>Goro wanted to look away. Didn’t dare.</p><p> Kurusu turned back to openly consider him, tilted his head a bit. His expression was soft, but he refused to let him go. “The person you showed me all this time… I liked that person. A lot.”</p><p>Didn’t dare breathe.</p><p>“I still think that person is you,” Kurusu said, conviction warm in his words. In his eyes. “And that that person was worth saving.” </p><p>When… did Kurusu get so close? He was against the wall before, but now he was leaning into the other side of the counter, right in front of Goro, close enough to–</p><p>Then Kurusu drew back, looked down at the counter… and reached down. He finally reclaimed his glasses, sliding them onto his face before picking up his forgotten coffee and taking it to the sink.</p><p>Goro’s hand twitched up after him, and he quickly slapped it down onto the counter, looked away, willing himself to catch his breath without sounding like he had been running from the Reaper. What was he– how was he supposed to make sense of <em> that?! How was he supposed to face Kurusu after that?! </em></p><p>The thought felt stupid, <em> weak, </em> and he hissed at himself as he clenched his hands against shaking and stared at his own untouched coffee. </p><p>The sink turned on. “Is there anywhere you need to go besides your apartment?” </p><p>Goro glanced up, keeping his head down but looking at Kurusu out of the corner of his eye.  </p><p>Kurusu was washing his cup, his back to Goro, his voice as casual as always, but– “Boss might be willing to take a detour, depending. And it would be good to get it all done in one trip if your neighborhood is out of the way. I don’t think I know where you live, now that I think about it.” He stalled, like he had surprised himself with the thought, then he turned off the water and reached for a drying rag. “But I have no obligations until the team meets, so I’d be free to help with whatever you need. And after tomorrow… I don’t know if you plan to return to school – if you can, that is – but I’ve been staying out, obviously. So if there’s something you have to handle <em> after </em> tomorrow, I would be free then, too. Feel free to ask.” </p><p>He was rambling. Kurusu Akira was <em> rambling. </em></p><p>Goro let his eyes fall back to his cup, the coffee <em> Kurusu </em> had made for him… and swallowed.</p><p>He didn’t deserve this.</p><p>…He reached for the cup.</p><p>Kurusu stopped talking.</p><p>Goro hadn’t even caught his last comments, but he took a couple of slow sips, set the cup back in its saucer, wiped his bottom lip with a thumb, and said, “It’s cold.”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>Goro let it stew for a few moments, then glanced at Kurusu. </p><p>He was looking over his shoulder at him. </p><p>They peered at one another, Goro’s mind truly blank as they stared… then Kurusu smirked. Let his relief shine just for a moment, then he turned back to his drying. “You should have drunk it earlier.”</p><p>Goro released a breath he didn’t recall holding, and turned his attention back to his cup, running a pointer finger along the rim since that was all it was good for. “Yes, you are right. But I do not recall asking for it in the first place.” </p><p>“Then you haven’t lost anything, have you?”</p><p>“Still, you put the idea in front of me, and now that I want it, it is not even consumable.” </p><p>“I could make you another– at cost.”</p><p>Goro glanced up again, but Kurusu was still at the sink. He was fairly certain that cup was bone dry by now. “Am I being charged now?” </p><p>“I’ve been charging you the whole time. I’ve got the tab if you want to see it.”</p><p><em> “Ah, </em> and did Sakura-san approve this practice?” </p><p>“Of course.”</p><p><em> Liar! </em> Goro smirked, then fell back into a smile worthy of a prince as he moved to rest his elbow on the counter and his chin in his palm. “Then I will happily discuss the matter with him tomorrow, and request one more cup in the meantime.”</p><p>Kurusu set aside his cup, hung up the rag, then <em> finally </em> turned around, the light behind his own smirk doing wonders for the tangle still in Goro’s gut. His rival leaned lazily back against the sink, hands finding his pockets. “You think he won’t take your money?” </p><p>“I think he is welcome to take whatever I have.” He gestured indicatively at his own person, garbed in borrowed clothes, lacking even a phone.</p><p>Kurusu looked him obligingly over, slower perhaps in his assessment than he had been earlier, and if it built up a tension in Goro’s throat that he had to swallow, that was his business. “I think he’d be open to negotiation. Perhaps he could take your shoes.” </p><p><em> Kurusu’s </em> shoes, actually, but Goro saw no need to point that out. “I highly doubt they would fit him.” </p><p>“Wouldn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing.”</p><p>“And if I were to reiterate that I never agreed to–”</p><p>
  <em> Bzzt. </em>
</p><p>The pair blinked, then Kurusu shifted upright to reach to pull out his phone. He unlocked the screen, took one look at it, and his eyebrows disappeared in his overgrown bangs.</p><p>“…Is there a problem?”</p><p>Kurusu didn’t respond, but crossed the room and dropped his phone on the counter so Goro could read it too.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>Futaba:</b> omg would u 2 shut up and go to bed???</p>
</blockquote><p>…</p><p>Goro… didn’t understand. Why would– how would Futaba know to– </p><p>The answer was far, far too obvious, and stupidly guessable in hindsight, and as Goro tripped mentally backwards over revelations Kurusu had the gall to sound <em> untroubled </em> as he murmured, “Did Morgana go over to Boss’s house?”</p><p><em> “No, </em> I <em> didn’t!!” </em> The two looked up together at Morgana, standing at the bottom of the attic steps with the most put-upon look feline anatomy could manage. “I’ve been here the whole time, <em> thanks, </em> now would you two <em> please </em> come to bed?!”</p><p>Then he left, bounding up the stairs without waiting for a reply.</p><p>… </p><p>“Huh.” </p><p>At Kurusu’s <em>lovely</em> little choice of input, Goro buried his face in his palm.</p><p>He really could have used that coffee. </p>
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